THE CIRCLE
 
 In youth we dream that life w straight line ; later, we 
 know it to be a circle in which the present presses on the 
 future, the future on the past.
 
 " The spark that God sets in the few glowed in her 
 voice and shone in her eyes"
 
 Che Circle 
 
 By KATHERINE CECIL THURSTON 
 
 Author of 
 
 "THE MASQUERADER," 
 
 "THE GAMBLER," 
 Etc., Etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY, # # # # 
 <* # /* PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, 1908 
 Br KATHERINE CECDL 
 
 All rights retenta 
 
 TH UNIVEBSITT Passa, C\MBUO, IVUas., U. S. A..
 
 To Jfy Husband
 
 The Circle 
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was a stormy night in November ; out of 
 doors, the wind swung through the street in a 
 rocking gale, but in the parlour behind the 
 curio shop, life seemed at its ebb. Old Solny 
 pored over a musty book, and Anna stood with her 
 head thrown back, her hands clasped behind her, her 
 eyes seeing dreams ; above them, on the dun-coloured 
 wall, the Dutch clock ticked methodically, but other- 
 wise the room was bereft of sound. 
 
 It was long before either moved ; then Solny stirred 
 automatically all his actions were jerky and indi- 
 rect and Anna unclasped her hands. She watched 
 him fumble for his handkerchief, and the corners of 
 her mouth stiffened unconsciously as he opened the 
 knotted corner and drew out his worn snuff-box, 
 opening the lid with a little snap. Youth is all raw 
 edges to the foibles of age, and Anna was not yet 
 sixteen. She moved impatiently, and the dreamy 
 look drifted from her eyes like a shadow before the 
 sun. 
 
 " Father," she said, " it 's long past eight."" 
 He turned, and a tiny cloud, like fine brown sand, 
 scattered from his fingers along his sleeve.
 
 2 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " It 's after eight," she said again. 
 
 "So?" He shut his book reluctantly. "And 
 the supper ? " 
 
 "The supper has been ready for half an hour."" 
 There was no vexation in her voice ; she spoke with 
 the indifference of one schooled to wait. Life in the 
 curio shop, in the little parlour behind it, in the 
 cramped bedrooms upstairs, was one persistent waiting 
 for something that never came. She made the tea 
 quietly in the Russian fashion that her father had 
 brought with him to England many years before ; 
 then she took her place at the table and began to 
 cut up the bread. 
 
 " There was another riot at the docks last night," 
 she said, " and another robbery. White's gang this 
 time." 
 
 " So ? " 
 
 " A woman was robbed of a purse with ten bank- 
 notes in it." She drew up her chair. 
 
 "So?" Old Solny stretched out a furtive hand 
 and drew his book nearer by an inch. 
 
 "Yes. And she gave up the purse without a 
 word." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 At the third exclamation the girl struck the table 
 sharply with her hand. " Father," she cried, " do say 
 something more ! You make me feel so much " 
 her voice shook, " so much alone." She glanced 
 round the little room with its scanty furniture, its 
 edds and ends, its accumulation of value and rubbish,
 
 THE CIRCLE 3 
 
 and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She knew 
 every detail, from the half-filled packing-cases crowded 
 on the window-seat to the darkened ceiling, but she 
 had never consciously spoken the word " home." She 
 looked across the table, and, throwing back her head, 
 tossed the tears out of her eyes. 
 
 " You 'd rather have one page of that old book 
 than than " 
 
 Solny looked up perplexed ; then he passed his 
 finger lovingly over the manuscript. "But it is 
 priceless," he said. " Merovingian ten hundred 
 and twelve." He returned to his place on the sixth 
 page. 
 
 Anna cut herself another round of bread ; then she 
 sighed. " I wish I were a man ! " 
 
 Solny went on deciphering ; the storm shook the 
 house in a further gale and the fire roared up the 
 chimney. 
 
 " I wish I were a man ! " she said again. 
 
 This time her father looked at her over his glasses. 
 " Why, my child ? Are you not content ? Is the 
 life not good ? " 
 
 " Oh, good enough ! " She leant back in her 
 chair. " But if I were a man if I were a man, 
 father, I M get on board a ship and be a sailor. At 
 the docks to-day the wind was roaring through the 
 masts, and it sounded like a great, loud song; it 
 made me mad to see the sea. The world and the sea 
 must be very much alike." She rested her elbows on 
 the table and took her face between her hands.
 
 4 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Solny made an unintelligible sound. " The world 
 is fit for one thing," he said, " to keep out of." 
 
 " But, father " 
 
 " You talk too much, child. Get me the cata- 
 logue." 
 
 She rose. " Don't you think that the woman 
 whose purse was stolen was a fool ? " 
 
 " The catalogue ! " His head was bent again. 
 
 She crossed the room, and pausing by the book- 
 shelf, reached for a volume on the upper tier. " If 
 I had been in her place, I 'd have fought for what 
 belonged to me with White or any man." She 
 tossed back her plait of thick red hair and blew some 
 dust from the cover of the book. " It must be fine, 
 you know, to feel like that to feel in the middle 
 of things, and not to care. Here it's just pearls 
 and china jars and dust always. Don't you ever 
 want to go back ? " 
 
 " Back where ? " 
 
 u Oh, back into life ; back into when you were 
 young." She paused. 
 
 " When I was young," he said slowly. " there was 
 persecution poverty and persecution for every Jew. 
 That was all." 
 
 She looked at him lingeringly. " It must be fine 
 to be persecuted. Did you feel a hero ? " 
 
 " No," he said shortly, and his head drooped. 
 
 Anna was studying the dial of the clock and 
 missed the expression on his face. At the brusque- 
 ness of his answer her expression fell. " You are n't
 
 THE CIRCLE 5 
 
 a bit like a story, 11 she said regretfully ; " you never, 
 never tell things ; and you must have seen " She 
 made a descriptive gesture with her hands. 
 
 " You can see too much, 11 he said laconically. 
 
 She sat on the back of a chair and swung her foot 
 to and fro ; the rise and drop of the wind was beat- 
 ing in her blood ; she strummed an accompanying 
 tattoo on the list book in her hand. " Oh, how I 
 wish " 
 
 Solny tapped the table with a gesture not unlike 
 her own. " You talk too much, 11 he said again. 
 " The catalogue ! " 
 
 Slowly she got to her feet and crossed the room ; 
 her senses, keen as razor blades, were racing at the 
 heels of the wind. Within a yard of her father she 
 paused ; her head bent suddenly and the pupils of 
 her eyes enlarged. 
 
 " Father, did you hear that?" 
 
 He turned a page. 
 
 " Father ! " 
 
 The book dropped. 
 
 Anna^ body was slightly bent and there was 
 colour in her face. " Father, it ""s a row ! " she said 
 with conviction. " I can hear the running and the 
 shouts. Father ! " She clasped her hands. " Father, 
 I heard someone cry out. Give me the lamp ! " 
 
 The old man turned pale. " You are mad, Anna, 11 
 he said tremulously. " What would you do ? You 
 are mad. 11 
 
 She was listening intently ; the colour in her face
 
 6 THE CIRCLE 
 
 came and went like a flame. " Oh ! " She drew in 
 her breath. " ^uick, father, the lamp ! " 
 
 " You are mad," he faltered again. 
 
 She turned to him, a torrent of speech behind her 
 lips ; but in view of his frightened face the words 
 died away. "Father," she said shortly, "let me 
 pass. Can't you see that worlds would n't keep me 
 back?" 
 
 He stretched out his hand, but her eyes and her 
 ears were elsewhere. She flew past him like a whirl- 
 wind, and seized the copper lamp ; ten seconds later, 
 he heard her struggling with the bar of the shop 
 door. " Anna," he called waveringly. " Anna, 
 think of my treasures ! My stock ! " 
 
 But his only answer was the trail of smell and 
 smoke that the lamp had left.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER 11 
 
 A^A held the lamp above her head, and her 
 fingers moved eagerly as they unfastened 
 the catch of the bar. There was no 
 fear in her face, no shadow of it in her 
 mind ; her whole being was absorbed in one idea 
 the knowledge that between her and the rush of life 
 there stood only one small door. 
 
 She heard her father stumble, she heard a dragging 
 sound, as he pulled back the curtain that divided 
 the parlour from the shop ; then she quickened her 
 movements and the bar dropped from the door with 
 a clang. An instant later, she blew out the lamp. 
 
 " If there is a row, it 's best to have no light. Do 
 you hear, father ? " 
 
 Solny responded inaudibly ; his voice had the pit- 
 eousness of a child's. 
 
 Anna smiled. " It 's all right. Here 's my hand." 
 She held out her hand, and to her impatience the 
 minute seemed interminable, before his fingers, grop- 
 ing in the air, found and grasped her own. 
 
 " But you can do no good and I dislike the 
 dark. Anna ! " 
 
 " I was n't thinking about doing good. I want to 
 see things. Are you ready ? "
 
 8 THE CIRCLE 
 
 His hand tightened on hers. 
 
 " Father ! " she said afresh. " You can hear it 
 again now if you listen hard. It 's away behind 
 the house ; it 's back in Enbury Street, but the wind 
 is blowing it round the corner. Can't you hear ? 
 Voices and running ? " She pulled him forward, and 
 for a space there was no sound in the place beyond 
 their differently taken breaths. 
 
 Then she straightened herself. Solny shrank 
 against her arm, but she moved him aside and took 
 a fresh step forward. " Just wait for me, father 
 and don't light the lamp. 1 11 be back in a minute 
 I only want to see." 
 
 " But, Anna " He groped forward and caught 
 her arm. " If you must go, go by the yard into the 
 Passage it 's easier, it 's safer than the front door.' 1 
 
 She laughed. " And be trampled to death in the 
 Passage if a crowd came up. Twill be all right, 
 father ; I '11 shut the door and I '11 knock when 
 I'm ready to come back. Now!" With a roar 
 from the freed wind that whirled her skirts and 
 whistled in her ears, she let the door fall open and 
 stood framed in the aperture. For a moment she 
 breathed in the freshness of the night; then she 
 moved forward, drawing the door with her. A 
 second later, it closed with a gentle thud shutting 
 her on the outer side. 
 
 The street was a sweep of grey, whipped clean by 
 the gale. To her right, as she paused on the narrow 
 foot-path, ran the by-way known as the Passage ; an
 
 THE CIRCLE 9 
 
 ill-kept lane that joined Enbury Street with Spin- 
 ner's Alley, and into which the yard at the side of 
 Solny's house opened by a little door. To her right 
 stretched Felt Street, on which the shop front opened, 
 a place of no great width, stone-paved and possessing 
 houses of enormous age. She glanced along its 
 length with impartial eyes. It was unattractive in 
 the day ; it was even more uninviting in the night. 
 It had a desolate air the desolate monotony of 
 an over-familiar scene. She knew every curve in 
 the eaves, every stone in the pavement. Her eyes 
 wandered from one object to another. First, be- 
 yond the curio shop, came the baker's ; then the 
 pawn-shop with its flaunting sign ; then the tiny cul- 
 de-sac, no more than a gaping mouth among the dull 
 shadows ; then But her eyes grew weary ; she 
 turned and walked a step or two towards the corner; 
 then paused again. On the opposite side the jut- 
 ting houses were a black mass, save where a candle 
 showed through a scanty blind or a street lamp 
 caught reflections in a window-pane. Everywhere 
 were silence and shadow and an apprehensive sense 
 of things to come. She put up her hand and 
 smoothed the long wisps of hair that the wind 
 had blown free of her plait. Then she gave a 
 slight cry and stepped backward, as a dog fled 
 round the corner of the Passage and darted down 
 Spinner's Alley with a howl. A <*econd later, hot 
 upon its precursor, came another fugitive ; but, 
 unlike the dog, it lurched into the cross streets
 
 10 THE CIRCLE 
 
 with the speed of a badly-launched arrow, and 
 there paused. 
 
 Anna felt her blood ebb and her breath catcK 
 She stood immovable, her hand suspended in the air. 
 In the uncertain light the new-comer was not easy of 
 definition beyond the fact that he was a man and 
 small of stature ; nevertheless, as he paused in the 
 open space with the breathless stillness of a hunted 
 animal, his figure showed up impressive and grey. 
 
 The pause was instantaneous, but to the girl it 
 seemed immense. She moved ; the man turned ; 
 and in the half gloom she felt, rather than knew, 
 that their glances met. The wind was blowing 
 from him to her ; her skirts flapped like sails at sea ; 
 her hair, blown across her eyes, momentarily blinded 
 her ; faint and yet distinct came the sound that she 
 had heard from the parlour the noise of massed 
 feet and voices, that is like no other sound on earth. 
 She tossed the hair out of her eyes and looked 
 towards the man. 
 
 It was patent at a glance that the oncoming sound 
 had reached him as soon, or sooner, than it had her. 
 He seemed to sway for an instant in despair, then 
 to gather decision from the very presence of his fear. 
 With a flash that was almost intuition, she defined 
 his glance, wild and eager, as he revolved suddenly, 
 facing each of the intersecting streets in turn ; and 
 with an articulate sound of excitement, her mind 
 leaped to the same solution, at the same instant, 
 as did his.
 
 THE CIRCLE 11 
 
 " The black alley ! " she said below her breath ; 
 and she clasped her hands and shut her eyes as he 
 fled past her up the cul-de-sac, beyond the baker's 
 and the pawn-shop ; then she turned and stood 
 against the corner facing the Passage. Almost 
 instantaneously the crowd, blocked by its own haste 
 in the narrow outlet, found egress and poured into 
 the open space. There it wavered, fell asunder, 
 drew together again, and finally stood still. 
 
 Anna watched it steadily. With a throb of ex- 
 citement she realised the situation and waited events. 
 It was a second or two before she was seen ; then, 
 with a vague impulsiveness that always marks a 
 mob, the press swayed towards her, moving in upon 
 the foot-path, while the outer stragglers spread in a 
 dark tail across the street. 
 
 " Seen a man ? " demanded a voice in the fore- 
 ground ; and a dozen other voices instantly echoed 
 the question. 
 
 The colour rushed into Anna's face ; the joy flnd 
 danger of her position assailed her in a rush. 
 
 " Speak up ! " came from the centre of the throng. 
 The crowd wavered towards her, then receded mo- 
 mentarily ; the breath from many throats was carried 
 to her across the wind. She suddenly looked up. 
 
 " What sort of man ? " she said. 
 
 " A small man." The words were spasmodic ; the 
 chase had been a hot one. 
 
 " He war n't so small, neither." 
 
 Shut up ! " The first man turned.
 
 12 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " 'Bout my size," put in a third, pushing to the 
 front only to be elbowed back. 
 
 Anna clasped her hands behind her. For the 
 first time in her existence issues of real moment were 
 at stake. She glanced quickly over the faces that 
 confronted her, and to her inner eyes the picture of 
 the fugitive alone in the grey street rose plain and 
 sharp the panic of his last movements, the incon- 
 gruity of one man against fifty. She tightened her 
 fingers and her eyes gleamed. 
 
 " He was a small man, 11 she said. " I saw him 
 quite plainly. He was a small man. 11 
 
 " That 1 s right ! Small he was. But look sharp ! " 
 
 " I came out to get a breath of air and to feel the 
 wind ; I was leaning against the door " She 
 spoke with slow, deliberate unconcern. 
 
 A wave of impatience crossed the crowd. A man 
 on the outer edge jostled and pushed. 
 
 " She 's kiddin 1 you, mate ! " he called ; and a 
 laugh, followed quickly by a growl, rose and dropped 
 again. 
 
 " Maybe she "s hidin 1 him, 11 volunteered another. 
 " There 's 'oles enough ! " 
 
 Several exclamations followed this, followed in 
 their turn by an ominous sway towards the foot- 
 path, towards the pawn-shop and the cul-de-sac. 
 Anna felt it, and felt her resolution quail ; then, 
 with an effort that was inspiration, she drew herself 
 very straight. 
 
 " Stop ! " she cried. " Stop ! " Her voice rang ;
 
 THE CIRCLE 13 
 
 even the tumultuous stragglers paused, surprised into 
 quiet. She waited for a second, her head held high, 
 her face very pale ; then she spoke with direct force. 
 
 " Look here,"" she said, " you found this street 
 quiet, you 'd better leave it quiet. About making 
 fools of you I could n't do that, for you 're fools 
 already ; I 'd hunt a man better myself. A question 
 and an answer, and you 'd have had hir* five minutes 
 ago ; instead " 
 
 The man who had been the first to speak caught 
 her arm. She flung him off fiercely. " Don't touch 
 me ! " she said. " I can talk without that. The 
 man you 're after came down the Passage before you ; 
 he stood for a second at the cross streets, looking up 
 and down ; then he saw me and bolted down Spin- 
 ner's Alley. You'll have to run, if you want to 
 catch him now ! " She laughed. The laugh was 
 strained and pitched too high ; but a crowd is not 
 sensitive to shades of tone. There was a shuffling 
 wait, a noisy indecision, then someone in the back- 
 ground shouted " Stop thief ! " One man tunied and 
 ran, a second followed, then a third. Before a 
 minute had gone by, before the girl had taken and 
 let go a dozen breaths, the mass of humanity had 
 wueeled in a body ; the street was still and grey 
 once more, its only audible disturbance the wind 
 amongst the house-tops, the shrill voices growing 
 fainter at every step. With swift reaction she leant 
 back against the door. 
 
 The moment of vitality was passed, her knees
 
 14 THE CIRCLE 
 
 trembled and there was a singing in her ears. She 
 stood immovable for a considerable space, then 
 suddenly she sprang alert to the remembrance of 
 the rescued man. From the shadows on her right, 
 someone was moving steadily nearer inch by inch. 
 The light from the scattered gas-lamps was poor ; 
 she bent forward in keen curiosity ; then abruptly 
 she drew back. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said involuntarily. " Oh ! " 
 
 At no time would the sight have been a pleasant, 
 one ; in the half dusk of the quiet street it almost 
 possessed elements of fear. The figure of the man 
 was small and deformed, his face had the bluish hue 
 of chalk, his lips trembled, a dark stain ran across 
 the forehead from eyebrow to temple. 
 
 For an instant Anna's capacities swam ; then, with 
 equal speed, her sense of necessity sprang into its 
 place. 
 
 " What 's happened to you ? " she asked. " What 
 have they done to you ? You are hurt cut ! " 
 
 He gazed at her in a stupor of silence ; it struck 
 her that his eyes were unusually large. 
 
 She moved nearer, conquering her repulsion. " Do 
 you know that you are safe quite safe ? " 
 
 His lips moved, but no sound came ; he had out- 
 stripped speech by several degrees. 
 
 " But you are ! Wake up ! Understand ! You are 
 safe quite safe." She caught his shoulder and 
 shook it gently to enforce the words ; then she drew 
 back and looked at her hand. It was stained with
 
 THE CIRCLE 15 
 
 the blood that had dropped from his forehead to his 
 coat. With a shock of feeling, she turned and 
 rapped violently on the shop door. 
 
 There was a long wait, an incredibly long wait, 
 then the hinges creaked, the dark shop opened before 
 her like a cave, and tut dr^ smell the combination 
 of Eastern spice with Western must that had grown 
 with her into existence floated out on the cold 
 air. Pushing the stranger before her, she stumbled 
 through the door. Then she raised her voice. 
 
 " Father, father, are you there ? Strike a light ! " 
 
 Silence followed ; someone shut the door with a 
 thud, then drew a match slowly across a box. It 
 flared for an instant, lighting the scene the shop 
 with its litter, its cobwebs, its shadows ; the bent 
 form of old Solny, as he held it aloft ; the drawn, 
 haggard face of the rescued man. The united effect 
 verged on the grotesque. 
 
 Anna felt herself turn cold again ; but she laughed. 
 " Real life is rather terrible," she said huskily ; " but 
 but it 's fine, all the same." She sank down sud- 
 denly on an empty box.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER III 
 
 1 
 
 match flamed, flickered, and then fell, 
 and once more there was the darkness 
 with its magnified sense of spice and 
 must. For a space no one spoke ; then at 
 last Anna broke the silence, her vitality re-asserting 
 itself with a rush. 
 
 " Father," she cried sharply, " another match and 
 the lamp and hot water. This man is cut to bits ! " 
 
 Solny fumbled ; then a fresh light flared up and 
 showed the stranger leaning against the wall, his 
 hands hanging by his sides, his eyes glowing like 
 lamps in the uncertain gloom. A tinge of pity 
 moved Anna the sense of ownership and gentle- 
 ness that one feels towards a rescued animal ; and 
 with one of her rapid impulses she rose. Solny had 
 set a light to the lamp, and she crossed the shop 
 quickly, treading with caution between the china 
 and the stacks of books. 
 
 " You Ye very weak/ 1 she said. " Put your arm 
 round my neck ; I '11 help you to walk." 
 
 The man wavered for an instant, then obeyed. 
 
 " Now, father," she called, " go before us with the 
 light, and we 11 want a big fire heaps and heaps 
 f coaL Are you ready?" She turned to the
 
 THE CIRCLE 17 
 
 stranger, passing her arm about his body ; and to- 
 gether he swaying slightly, she measuring her 
 steps with care they crossed the dusty floor to the 
 little room behind. 
 
 In the parlour the fire was casting orange flames ; 
 the homely supper was still to be removed. For the 
 first time Anna realised the grip of familiar things, 
 " Draw up the arm-chair, father,"" she said ; then she 
 turned again to the new-comer. " It 's rather un- 
 steady, but you must n't mind." 
 
 He glanced at her, and a peculiar expression, a 
 look that was ironical and yet patient, touched his 
 face. " No, Fraulein," he said in somewhat slow and 
 halting English, " I do not think that I shall mind." 
 Then quite suddenly and quite quietly he fainted in 
 her arms. 
 
 It happened in a second ; the whole thing seemed 
 as natural and as much in sequence as a scene upon 
 the stage. Anna realised it on the instant, as she 
 bent to the additional weight ; Solny grasped the 
 fact a moment later, and between them they laid 
 him on the ground, opening his collar for greater 
 air. For a space they watched him breathlessly ; 
 then with a certain uneasy haste Solny rose from 
 his knees. He leant deprecatingly against the table, 
 pushed his glasses onto his forehead, drew them down 
 again, then spoke. 
 
 "If you don't really need me, Anna," he said 
 hesitatingly ; "if you don't really need me, there's a 
 sentence in that manuscript that baffles me. You 
 
 i
 
 18 THE CIRCLE 
 
 know I have been much upset to-night.* 1 His glance 
 wandered wistfully from the unconscious figure of 
 the stranger to the book still lying beside his 
 plate. 
 
 Anna followed his gaze, then quite suddenly she 
 laughed a spontaneous, irresistible laugh. " Oh, 
 father, you are different from everyone in the 
 world ! Give me the cold water and a bowl and 
 I'll let you go; I can see your fingers twitching. 
 Life is very amusing, after all ! " She threw back 
 her head and her teeth gleamed ; she had gained a 
 new standpoint, though an unrealised one. 
 
 For a long time, and very carefully, she bathed 
 the stranger's face, then quite calmly she tied up his 
 wound : she had none of the dread of unconscious- 
 ness that troubles less steady brains. She studied 
 his features with candid curiosity, her lips remain- 
 ing parted in the questioning attitude of a child. 
 " Father, 11 she said suddenly, " suppose he never 
 wakes at all ? " 
 
 She hardly expected an answer, and she received 
 none. Solny was separated from her by eight cen- 
 turies. She bent, laying her ear to the stranger's 
 lips ; then she redoubled her splashings on his face 
 and hair. When at length his throat trembled and 
 his eyelids hesitatingly stirred, his first sight of a 
 returning world was a pair of brilliant eyes and 
 a mouth that quivered in its eagerness to smile ; 
 and the welcome was so exhilarating and so new 
 that he forgot his troubles, his pain and the inci-
 
 THE CIRCLE 19 
 
 dents that had brought him there ; and accepting 
 the moment as it was, returned the smile. 
 
 " Ah, that 's better ! " Anna drew a long breath. 
 "For a while I thought you were dead. And, do 
 you know, I never dreamt that you could smile 
 you have such gloomy eyes. Father ! " She raised 
 her voice. " Father, put away the book, he 's awake 
 again. Come and help him into the chair." 
 
 Solny shuffled round the table; his glasses were 
 firmly fixed and his eyes looked preoccupied. He 
 put his hands under the man's lean arms and raised 
 him. " Dear me,"" he said, " how thin you are ! I 
 suppose you know nothing of Merovingian manu- 
 script ? I have put my hand upon a marvel." 
 
 The man smiled again in spite of the pain his 
 movement caused. "I am of little use, I fear, in 
 any way." 
 
 Anna interposed. Action was her sphere ; her 
 face looked radiant. " Back to your book, father, 
 we shaVt disturb you for an hour. But first, where 's 
 the French brandy ? " 
 
 Solny gazed round abstractedly. "Where did I 
 put the key ? " he said. " The brandy is in the top 
 cupboard, but the key " 
 
 Anna was trembling with impatience. "Never 
 mind the key ; you know you forget to lock the 
 cupboard in any case." She sprang to a chair, 
 poising herself lightly. The stranger's eyes fol- 
 lowed her attentively ; she seemed all youth and 
 strength. " Of course ! " she cried with a laugh.
 
 20 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Of course ! The cupboard is as open as the day." 
 She thrust her hand into the recess and drew out a 
 squat bottle of old-fashioned make. "Now this is 
 pure gold," she said seriously, " and must be taken 
 in drops, like gold is melted in the mint." She 
 sprang down, and her eyes flashed in the brilliance 
 of the fire. 
 
 " I '11 set the kettle to boil, and then put three 
 lumps of sugar in a tumbler So! That's right, 
 is n't it, father ? " 
 
 Solny muttered an assent. 
 
 " And you '11 feel as strong and well as if to-night 
 had never been. 11 She came and stood by the new- 
 comer. " Already the pain is better, eh ? w 
 
 " Already, Fraulein." 
 
 " That 's right ! But you must n't call me Frau- 
 lein ; I'm just Anna, you know to everyone." 
 
 The man looked up. 
 
 " And you " She stirred the fire. " What are 
 you called ? " 
 
 He looked down again. " Johann," he said shortly. 
 
 She repeated the name. " And nothing else ? " 
 
 " Nothing else." He spoke after a pause. 
 
 She seemed satisfied. " You are a German, eh ? " 
 
 " I come from Vienna," 
 
 There was another silence; then the girl spoke 
 again. " Listen to the kettle. It 's going to sing. 
 Is Vienna very big ? Bigger than London ? " 
 
 " Not so big but brighter." 
 
 "Very bright?" She lifted off the kettle and
 
 21 
 
 poured some water over the sugar and brandy al- 
 ready in the glass. 
 
 " For some very bright." 
 
 " Ah, I shall go there some day and to Paris." 
 She moved towards him, carrying the tumbler. " Are 
 there theatres in Vienna ? " 
 
 " Oh, many." He took the glass. 
 
 She looked at him suddenly, her face alight. 
 " Have you seen the theatres the great actors 
 and actresses on the stage ? " There was a tone in 
 her voice that he had not observed before. 
 
 " Oh, yes." He looked at her in some surprise. 
 
 She returned the glance seriously. " I 'd rather go 
 to a theatre, you know, than to Heaven much. 
 I have seen plays in booths but never on the 
 stage." 
 
 He sipped his drink and watched her wonderingly. 
 She seemed so young, yet so individual so markedly 
 much herself. It struck him instinctively that some 
 natures are made to take, as others are made to give. 
 The thought was irrelevant and fleeting, but it threw 
 a shadow across his eyes. 
 
 " You have a sad thought," she said intuitively, 
 " and sadness is n't allowed. I found you, you 
 know, and I can allow or not, as I like ; you belong 
 to me." She patted his hand and smiled. "To- 
 morrow and after to-morrow you can tell me about 
 all you have seen ; but to-night you must rest 
 just rest." 
 
 "But, Fraulein "
 
 22 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " What ? " She frowned quickly. 
 
 He made a deprecating motion with his hands. 
 
 " Fraulein, you know that I cannot stay here 
 Y ju know that " 
 
 She drew back swiftly. " Father, did you hear 
 that ? " Disappointment and tears trembled in her 
 voice. 
 
 " What, child ? What ? You have made me lose 
 my place. 11 
 
 " Father, I found him and saved him and brought 
 him in, and now he wants to go ! " 
 
 The man in the big chair moved uncomfortably. 
 " Not wants, Fraulein r 
 
 " Yes, wants. 11 She turned on him sharply, then 
 looked again towards Solny. " Father, did you 
 hear? 11 
 
 Solny ran his fingers desperately through his hair. 
 " Have what you will, child," he said testily. " Have 
 whatever you will ; but leave me in peace. If you 
 want him, no doubt hell stay. Give him the attic 
 room that John Desinski used ; give him anything 
 you like but don't speak again. 11 He turned in 
 his chair and put his hands over his ears. 
 
 The others confronted each other silently. 
 
 " But, Fraulein " 
 
 Anna raised her hand and moved nearer by a step. 
 " It 's very well to talk about going, 11 she said, " but 
 can you go ? *" Then her manner changed ; her voice 
 softened and she smiled. It was like a wave of sun 
 through a chill room. " How do you arrange to
 
 THE CIRCLE 23 
 
 walk, wh U you can't stand alone ? " She bent down 
 and looked into his face, and again the firelight 
 seemed reflected in her eyes. "We have an empty 
 room here, and a good welcome. It is n't very nice 
 of you to go. 11 
 
 He looked up helplessly. 
 
 " It is n't very kind of you, when I want you to 
 stay." 
 
 Her clear gaze met his. " When I am so alone ; 
 when I when I would like so much to have a 
 friend. Won't you stay Johann ? " 
 
 The appeal was irresistible. There was a long 
 silence ; he looked down, then looked up. " I am 
 what in English you call a beggar," he said harshly. 
 
 She watchrd him for a second. " Then teach me 
 to talk in jrerman," she said, " and we '11 never use 
 the word-"
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUCH was the advent of Johann. He came 
 as a thunderbolt might have come, in a 
 whirl of confusion ; and like the thunder- 
 bolt when its thrill of life is passed, he lay 
 where he had fallen, sinking deep into the soil of a 
 new existence too inert and passive to seek farther 
 fields. He slept in the bed that had once belonged 
 to John Desinski, a Polish artist who had died in the 
 attic above the shop, and he slept with the exhaus- 
 tion that follows tumult of the nerves ; the pain of 
 his wound lost itself, and the past, with the present, 
 fell away before the necessity of rest. When he 
 opened his eyes after many hours and blinked before 
 the sunshine of a fresh day, it was with scarcely any 
 consciousness of the previous night. 
 
 He looked at the unsteady dressing-table with its 
 white cloth ; he caught a glint of sun mirrored back 
 from the water in the ewer ; he watched the shadows 
 chequering in drab squares on the bare boards ; and 
 then, with a peculiar realisation of shelter, he let his 
 eyelids droop again. 
 
 A cautious shaking of the door-handle was his 
 second summons back into the world. 
 
 ** May I come in ? "
 
 THE CIRCLE 25 
 
 The voice brought a sudden colour to his face and 
 made him raise his hand to the unsightly bandage 
 on his head. 
 
 " If you will, Fraulein." 
 
 ** Say Anna or you get no breakfast." The 
 voice tingled with a pleasant sense of life ; he closed 
 his eyes again and let it throb through him. It 
 warmed his mind like an intangible fire. 
 
 " Well ? " An impatient foot beat on the floor 
 outside. " I can't hold the tray for ever." 
 
 He laughed in nervous response. " Please then 
 Anna." 
 
 With an accompanying sigh of relief the door was 
 pushed in ; and then it seemed to him that a sec- 
 ond morning was created in the room, that a second 
 flood of light poured through it from some unguessed 
 source. 
 
 " Good morning, Johann ! " She came slowly 
 across the room. " I have made the coffee as father 
 likes it and that means a lot ; and I wasted three 
 pieces of bread before the toast came right." She 
 carefully balanced the tray. " But are you better ? " 
 Her tone sank, and a solicitous look crossed her eyes ; 
 it was one of her characteristics that her face and 
 voice were a glass to her thoughts reflecting sensa- 
 tions to the finest point. " Poor Johann ! " she said 
 simply. " Just for a second, you know, I forgot." 
 She helped him to sit up, and placed the tray across 
 his knees ; then she leant against the foot rail and 
 prepared to watch him eat.
 
 26 
 
 After a full minute's silence she spoke again. 
 " Do you remember anything about last night ? " 
 
 The words, light and unmeant, acted on him 
 curiously. He bent forward, and laid his cup down 
 with so jerky a movement that some of the coffee was 
 spilt on the sheet. " Don't,"" he said nervously. " I 
 had forgotten about last night. Your kindness and 
 the daylight made me forget." He covered his eyes, 
 and it seemed to the girl that his hand shook. She 
 wondered quickly if his reason was entirely sound. 
 
 The deformed, like the blind, are quick of instinct ; 
 he looked up, half conscious of the thought that had 
 crossed her mind. " You are not to be afraid,"" he 
 said gently : " it is I who must be that." He stared 
 past her at the window ; and it seemed to her that in 
 his glazed eyes there were visions of the night before 
 of the streets, of the crowd of the uncertain, 
 baffling lights. She laid her hand on his shoulder 
 with a firm, protective touch. 
 
 " Tell me what it is. Tell me what 's the matter." 
 She stroked his arm. " Sometimes, you know not 
 very often, of course, but sometimes I have a secret 
 of my own ; and then I always tell it to my father. 
 He doesn't always hear, but that doesn't matter; 
 the secret is gone and does n't weigh any more. If 
 you '11 tell me yours, I '11 listen all I can, and then 
 't will go from you right away from you. See ! " 
 She touched his hand entreatingly, soothingly. 
 
 He turned to her. " But you are a child. Why 
 should I tell my thought to you ? "
 
 27 
 
 For an instant she looked annoyed; then she 
 smiled again. " You 11 tell me because you 11 have 
 to. You 11 tell me to-morrow if you don't to-day. 
 And you Ye quite wrong about my being a child."" 
 
 He looked at her, so young, so reliant, a type of 
 the world apart from him ; and a sweeping bitterness 
 surged through his mind the bitterest of all bitter 
 things, the knowledge of being aloof. Unconsciously 
 he bent his head. 
 
 She too was silent for a space, the sense of his 
 depression weighing on her without explanation. 
 She moved to the window, and drawing back the 
 curtain, let in an added flood of light. Then she 
 turned, bathed in its brightness. " Is there anything 
 so tine as the light ? " she said. 
 
 He lifted his head. " And the darkness ? What 
 of the darkness ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't count that. There must be darkness 
 of course, as well as sun, but when it comes we can 
 shut our eyes." She tried to read his expression, 
 but it puzzled and evaded her. 
 
 " Ah, yes, for you you carry the brightness with 
 you ; even your hair is like a torch." 
 
 She glanced at his swiftly ; then raised her hand. 
 " My red hair ! You are laughing ? " 
 
 " No, not laughing." His voice lapsed again. 
 
 " How old are you ? " 
 
 "Thirty." He sighed. 
 
 "Thirty!" She considered for a while. "Half 
 father's age, and nearly twice mine. Johann, will we
 
 28 THE CIRCLE 
 
 forget about the sun and the shadow and things, and 
 be friends ? " She held out her hand. 
 
 He took the hand questioningly. His own fingers 
 were thin and pallid, hers looked full of force by con- 
 trast. They both looked down, and Anna laughed. 
 
 " I believe I could squeeze hardest. See ! " She 
 tightened her grasp ; then suddenly let go. u Have 
 I hurt you ? Your face went all red." 
 
 " It was not pain," he said hastily. " It was 
 Never mind what it was ; some day you will know 
 perhaps." He drew away his hand and raised the 
 coffee-cup again. 
 
 " But I want to know now. What was it ? " 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 " Johann, what was it ? " 
 
 " It was nothing." He broke a piece of toast. 
 " What does your father say of me to-day ? " 
 
 She laughed. " Father ! Shall I tell you ? " Her 
 mind was tossed by a new thought as a leaf is blown 
 by the wind. 
 
 " Yes." He sat up straight. 
 
 "Well, after breakfast " She settled herself 
 comfortably against the foot rail. " You know he 
 always reads at meals and never talks till after. 
 After breakfast, he put down his book and rubbed 
 his glasses ; then he asked me quite seriously if there 
 were rats in the attic room ; he said he heard noises 
 there last night." She threw back her head and 
 went into another peal of laughter, so fresh and 
 amused that Johann joined.
 
 THE CIRCLE 29 
 
 " Ah, that 's good ! " she said suddenly. " You 
 look like a boy when you laugh."" 
 
 He drew back sensitively ; his laughter died away 
 and the old sad gravity fell over his features like a 
 mask. " He had forgotten me, then ? " he asked 
 with embarrassed haste. 
 
 " Oh, not forgotten, just overlooked. I reminded 
 him of course ; I told him you ? d slept in the attic 
 room. He looked very wise for a while, then he 
 seemed to wake up. ' Ah, so ! ' he said. ' The young 
 man who can't decipher. Tell him to catalogue the 
 Egyptian scarabs, if he can find the time.' So your 
 place is fixed for you ; there 's no running away." 
 She laughed afresh. " But that 's all father said ; he 
 went out of the room rubbing his book at the cor- 
 ners, like this " She mimicked the action of a 
 bookworm with such precision that once more Johann 
 was compelled to smile. 
 
 "Anna,"" he said suddenly, "what do they tell 
 you of yourself ? "" 
 
 She looked at him uncomprehendingly ; then after 
 a long pause she answered with simple force, " When 
 nobody ever thinks of me, how can anybody talk of 
 me?" 
 
 Johann felt suddenly abashed.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER V 
 
 IT was eleven oVlock when Anna slung a basket 
 over her arm and went out to buy dinner for 
 the day. She was marketwoman and cook in 
 the curio shop, as well as mistress, and the 
 duties that fell to her were varied and numerous. 
 She bought a fish, an armful of vegetables, a packet 
 of lentils, some coffee and dried figs ; then, her errand 
 finished, she turned homeward. The reflection of 
 the morning was in her eyes, an audible song rose 
 occasionally to her lips, for the lulled storm had left 
 a wintry sunshine behind it that quickened the 
 blood. 
 
 " Father," she cried, as she swung into the shop, 
 " you ought to go out ! There ^s a feel in the air 
 to-day that would wake you." Then, as Solny made 
 no answer, she looked farther into the darkness. 
 " What, Johann ! Who gave you leave to dress ? " 
 She laid down her basket and went forward hur- 
 riedly. " What are you doing ? Cataloguing ? 
 How silly, with a wounded head!" 
 
 Johann raised a pallid face. " It only hurts a 
 little ; beside beside, I like to be occupied." 
 
 Anna shook her head. " How silly ! " she said 
 again. " You look ghastly ; you can hardly stand.*
 
 THE CIRCLE .jl 
 
 Then I will sit for a little." He looked uncer- 
 tainly about. 
 
 But the girl intervened. " Come into the kitchen ; 
 you can have a place by the fire, while I work."" 
 
 He assented easily, following her across the shop 
 and through the living-room, to the kitchen beyond ; 
 it seemed that he lacked force to reason for himself. 
 Seen by day, his face looked meagre ; and the de- 
 tor .1) ity that by night had appeared shadowy, showed 
 cruelly in the colder light. 
 
 Anna drew a wooden chair to the grate, and pick- 
 ing up a bellows, set the fire in a blaze. From her 
 place by the hearth, she glanced up at him. " Your 
 face is all pinched," 11 she said, " and your fingers are 
 blue with cold. I '11 have to look after you, I see." 
 
 He sat down docilely, and a silence fell. 
 
 She washed the lentils for the soup, slices the 
 onions and broke up the celery, but her eyes and her 
 attention were, all the while, on the stranger's face ; 
 it was with a preoccupied air that she finally began 
 to prepare the fish. 
 
 Johann, in his turn, was uneasy. He moved, 
 sighed, thrust his hands into his pockets, then sighed 
 again ; at last he rose. " It is of no use," he said, 
 " I cannot sit quite still. It was the same when you 
 left this morning, I could not lie in bed." He walked 
 nervously to the dresser, his hands hanging by his 
 sides. Anna, watching him intently, felt that he 
 thirsted to speak ; but she kept her head silently 
 bent.
 
 32 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Anna ! " -He fingered the plates. 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Oh, it is of no use."" He crossed to the window, 
 then walked back again. " Anna, I cannot keep it 
 to myself. The sweat breaks out every time I think. 
 I am a coward a coward ! " He sorted a heap of 
 plates till they rattled. 
 
 She watched him unswervingly. " I suppose we 
 are all cowards, Johann." 
 
 The steadiness of her tone mastered him ; he 
 ceased his nervous gestures and passed again to the 
 window, where he stood looking out. " If I only 
 dared " he said at last. 
 
 She crossed the room, and slipping her arm through 
 his, led him back to the fire. " Now, tell me what 
 it is. 11 
 
 He dropped into his former seat and covered his 
 eyes. " I have been robbed," he said abruptly, " and 
 I am afraid." He slowly wiped the dampness from 
 his face. 
 
 Anna returned to the table and began to slice the 
 fish. There was a long pause ; then she spoke. 
 "Suppose you begin at the beginning. Most 
 things have a beginning, you know." Secret-hunt- 
 ing was new to her, but she had a keen instinct 
 for the right act and the right word. " Most 
 things have a beginning," she said again in a level 
 voice. 
 
 The tonic acted ; he sat up. " It was like this " 
 He cleared his throat.
 
 THE CIRCLE 33 
 
 " Take lots of time ; I have the fish to cut up and 
 wash and dry." 
 
 He steadied himself, drawing a short breath. 
 " For many years I have served a jewel merchant in 
 Vienna Golstock by name ; a man who has built 
 a great fortune for himself; a hard man ; a man 
 with a wilLof stone." He paused and drew breath 
 again. " I have been with him for ten years ; it 
 was he who taught me the English to speak and 
 to write ; I have kept portions of his English cor- 
 respondence for four years. A little while ago he 
 called me to his private room " 
 
 The man stopped ; and the only sound that broke 
 the silence was the steady slicing of the fish. 
 
 "He called me to his private room " He 
 paused again. 
 
 The girl waited, drawing her finger-tip slowly 
 across the tip of the knife. Her curiosity was run- 
 ning riot, but she kept a level voice. " Yes I 
 understand." 
 
 He pulled the edges of his handkerchief through 
 his fingers, seeking nerve in the friction of the stuff. 
 " You wonder why I hesitate and halt," he said, 
 " and shiver when I speak of him ? I will tell 
 you why. It is because I have feared him all these 
 years. He is a man who rules by fear." 
 
 " Why have you stayed with him all these years ? * 
 
 " That I hardly know." He passed his hand again 
 over his face. " The same reason, I suppose, that 
 made me come to London on his errand ; the reason 
 
 3
 
 34 THE CIRCLE 
 
 that makes men like him rule men like me always ; 
 with just a word or a look from the eye. 1 " 
 
 Anna looked down at her knife. " What about 
 the private room ? " 
 
 "I am coming to that." He moved nervously. 
 " When I entered the room he was sitting at his desk, 
 and beside him, on the top of many papers, was a 
 leather case ; he was tapping it with his fingers as I 
 came in. 'This is for a lady in London,' he said. 
 * It must reach her in three days ; I am going to 
 trust it to you. 1 He opened the case and showed 
 me what lay inside five ornaments of pink topaz 
 with pearl and diamond rims; two pins, a ring, a 
 hair clasp and a dagger. I remember, for I had to 
 count them many times, till he was satisfied I should 
 not forget. They were very brilliant and dazzled 
 me a little, but I took them out and looked at them 
 one by one. At last I asked him what they were 
 valued for. He laughed. * You are not paid to 
 valuate, 1 he said. ' Never see beyond your own 
 horizon. 1 
 
 "I hesitated for a moment. It was not that I 
 feared the responsibility though a rose-coloured 
 topaz from Brazil is something to be prized ; but I 
 was uncertain. I asked him at length why he had 
 chosen me. He looked at me slowly with his hard 
 eyes ; then he laughed once more. ' I choose you, 
 Johann,' he said, 'because you are a fool. In the 
 case of valuables, one honest fool is better than ten 
 clever rogues. 1 ""
 
 THE CIRCLE 35 
 
 Johann stirred uneasily at the remembrance of the 
 look, and Anna felt the colour flood her cheeks as it 
 had done when she faced the crowd. 
 
 " What did you do ? " she asked. 
 
 He shifted his position awkwardly. " I did noth- 
 ing it did not seem that there was anything to 
 do." The slow precision of his English, the careful 
 forming of his sentences made his meanings painfully 
 clear. 
 
 " Go on ! " She returned to her preparation of 
 the fish. " How I should hate that man ! " 
 
 " Do you hate me ? " 
 
 " You ? How silly ! " She tossed back her plait. 
 
 " Do you despise me ? " 
 
 " What a question ! Tell me what you said to 
 Golstock." 
 
 " I said nothing. He always talks."" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " I consented to do the errand." Johannes voice 
 was humble and low. 
 
 " I would n't have consented." 
 
 " No ; you would not." He waited for a little : 
 then took up his theme again. " He gave me my 
 route and my destination. I was to travel to Bel- 
 gium in the least frequented way ; and reaching 
 Antwerp, to cross to London by the sea. People 
 with valuables take the quickest means, I was to 
 take the slowest. It was all arranged ; it is a whim of 
 Hen" Golstock's working out these little schemes. 
 It is his only whim that I have known ; made since
 
 36 THE CIRCLE 
 
 years ago he had a packet of rubies stolen in the 
 post."" He stopped to collect his ideas; and \>nen 
 he spoke again it was with more rapidity and force. 
 
 " The end came through a countryman a big 
 Austrian with a yellow beard. He came on board 
 the ship when I did, and we climbed the gangway 
 side by side. During the day he spoke casting a 
 word to me now and then in the English, with a 
 pleasant smile. But it was at night in the cabin that 
 he played his card. 
 
 " We were crowded together some in bed, some 
 undressing ; the ship pitched ; and the smell of the 
 swinging lamp was very rank. An argument was 
 running at the centre table, but the voices cut each 
 other so that nobody tried to hear. Then out of 
 the medley, like a gunshot, came a bang, as the 
 Austrian struck the table with his hand. Everybody 
 turned round. * If I had the value of ten gold coins, 1 
 he said, ' I would throw them overboard, sooner than 
 land with them to-morrow night at the London 
 docks. 1 His voice shook the place, and each man 
 acted as came best. Some made a jest and laughed ; 
 others laughed, but not so easily ; and some turned 
 pale and asked him what he meant. But he said no 
 more. Just for a moment his careless eyes ran round 
 the place, like lightning dancing upon steel ; and it 
 was then, in a sudden second, that I felt his gaze on 
 me, It was but a flash, but he saw my hand go to 
 my pillow, as I sat up ; he saw my thought show in 
 my eyes. The next day he came to me as I leant
 
 THE CIRCLE 37 
 
 over the ship's side, and talked to me in my own 
 language " 
 
 "And told you things heaps of things?" Anna's 
 knife was suspended in the air. 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 "Oh!" She tossed back her plait. "It is a 
 trick of White's. Your Austrian was in league with 
 White ; he saw through you like you see through . 
 pane of glass. He scared you and warned you, and 
 then he offered to steer you safe to his own house. 
 Is n't that right ? " 
 
 Johann hung his head. 
 
 " Oh, Johann, Johann and you went ! " 
 
 He was still for a moment ; then he spoke. " Herr 
 Golstock was right. I never had the brains." 
 
 But Anna waved him on. " The end ? " she said. 
 "The end?" 
 
 " Oh, the end the end is a blur. It was after 
 supper at the Austrian's house ; I was in my room, 
 polishing the jewels. They broke in on me three 
 men with heavy faces and shuffling feet. They stood 
 for a moment staring at me ; then one came straight 
 across the room and struck me on the head. I heard 
 the jewels rattle on the table ; I saw them pounce on 
 them like cats ; then all my fear rose up, choking 
 me. My hand shut without my will on the one 
 ornament I still held ; and as the first man raised 
 his hand to strike again, I fled out of the room. 
 How I slipped past them I cannot say, I suppose the 
 dazzle of the stones was in their eyes, but I tumbled
 
 38 THE CIRCLE 
 
 down the stairs and reached the street. In the street 
 there were people many people, and I fell into 
 their midst " He stopped to catch his breath. 
 
 "Go on ! Go on ! " Anna's eyes flashed. 
 
 " I fell in amongst them, my head was swinging 
 round ; then sharply, from behind me, I heard the 
 Austrian's voice with your English cry of ' Stop 
 thief ! ' And it seemed to me that everyone I 
 most of all began to run. It was then that I found 
 you." He suddenly collapsed. 
 
 There was a tense moment ; then Anna let the fish 
 fall and ran to him, holding out her hands.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER VI 
 
 ANA took his hand and stroked it gently. 
 " Poor Johann ! Poor Johann ! " she said, 
 punctuating the words with little motions 
 of her fingers. She felt that there were 
 things to say, but they slipped her grasp. His story 
 still rang in her ears, making dull echoes ; and she 
 watched him with eyes half incredulous, half envious 
 of the adventure he had known. 
 
 He was lying back with closed lids and lashes that 
 twitched with the drawing of his breath. His pallid 
 face looked thin ; and frequently, in the years that 
 followed, the isolation of his attitude in that mo- 
 ment came back to her like the vaguely recalled 
 section of a dream. Time seemed to halt while 
 he sat there; she counted four carts pass over the 
 cobbles of the street, then her patience broke away ; 
 she pressed his hand sharply, and he sat up. 
 
 " Oh," he moaned, " it was terrible terrible ! " 
 His voice sank, and he fell back again. But Anna 
 was on the alert ; with a swift movement she dropped 
 to her knees and looked up into his face. For a 
 moment the spirit in her eyes inspired him ; he raised 
 himself and sat forward in the chair. "I told 
 you that I was a coward. Look ! " He held out
 
 40 THE CIRCLE 
 
 his hand till the sun played on it ; she saw that it 
 shook. 
 
 " But, Johann " 
 
 His eyes turned on her, full of question and doubt. 
 
 "Johann, I want to understand." 11 She rose and 
 moved slowly to the fire. Her tone lingered in a 
 puzzled way and her brows were knit in a frown. 
 " You have lost the jewels that 's terrible, of 
 course ; but it 's not so bad as you say. You '11 
 go to this man in Vienna " Her voice suddenly 
 stopped, broken in on by a laugh a laugh as hard 
 and mirthless as a crash of stones. 
 
 " Go back to Vienna ! " The voice was as shrill 
 as the laugh. " Go back to Vienna ! It would 
 make the dead turn in the grave." All at once he 
 saw her face, and his own changed. " Oh, Fraulein, 
 I have hurt you. It was the irony and the fear 
 together. Fraulein, forgive r 
 
 But Anna's back was turned. "It isn't a hun- 
 dred years ago," she said coldly, " when a man could 
 kill you or torture you." 
 
 " True ! It is not a hundred years ago." 
 
 " Then you are a coward. '" Her tone was short 
 and contemptuous. 
 
 There was a long pause, so long that she was com- 
 pelled at last to turn round ; she turned slowly, then 
 halted with a throb of contrition. 
 
 He still sat forward, but his face was humbly bent ; 
 his eyes, pained and wistful, were fixed on her with 
 a concentrated gaze ; as their glances met, he spoke.
 
 THE CIRCLE 41 
 
 *' I am as I was made," he said gently. " I could be 
 faithful ; I think I could love well ; but in my own 
 cause I shall always be a coward. Nature was look- 
 ing out of the window when I was born. 1 ' He added 
 the last with a twist in his thin voice. 
 
 Anna laughed, but there was a catch in her laugh- 
 ter. She came behind him and touched his hair. 
 " I was a wretch ! But I am sorry. Will that 
 do? 11 
 
 " It was true what you said." 
 
 "It was not. It was hateful. Let's start again 
 where I got cross. I said you must go to Vienna ; 
 you said it was impossible. Now why?" 
 
 " Because it is impossible. Impossible." There 
 was a nervous whiteness round his mouth. 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Because I am afraid. I know men cannot kill 
 but there are other things besides killing. He would 
 vent his loss on me in other ways. Oh, not for all 
 the value of the stones would I go back." He 
 grasped the arms of his chair. 
 
 Anna paused undecided ; then all at once a gen- 
 erous impulse crossed her face ; she walked swiftly 
 round the chair and stood in front of him. " Then 
 don't bother any more," she said. " If you are afraid 
 to go, don't go. Stay here with us." She bent, look- 
 ing straightly in his eyes. " No one will find you 
 here ; this place is like a mouse-hole in the bigness 
 of London ; you will be as safe as a mouse." 
 She laughed ; then grew grave again. " There 's
 
 42 THE CIRCLE 
 
 a room waiting to be used; there's father grow- 
 ing more forgetful every day ; there 's the shop want- 
 ing more care. Oh, you would n't be an idler I 
 can promise you that. 11 She held out her hand. 
 
 He took it unsteadily, then let it drop. " One 
 thing prevents."" 
 
 " Johann ! " Her voice fell. 
 
 He rose abruptly, thrust his hand inside his shirt, 
 and held something to the light. 
 
 " Johann ! " she said again, but in an altered voice. 
 The object in his hand shone with a peculiar pinkish 
 glow. " Oh, Johann, it 's very, very fine ! " 
 
 " If I were to stay," he said suddenly, " this would 
 burn into me little at first, greater afterwards 
 until, to myself, I became a thief." He turned his 
 eyes from the jewel to her face, from her face back 
 again. " What can I do with it? What am I to 
 do?" 
 
 She was silent for a space, then she glanced up. 
 " There are two places that it can go to. Back to 
 Vienna," Johann shivered, " or to the place in Lon- 
 don where the others should have gone. Is n't that 
 right ? " 
 
 He cowered again. " Oh, but I dare not. I dare 
 not!" 
 
 " There is the post." 
 
 " No, no. Packets are traced ; letters are traced." 
 He moved uneasily about the room. 
 
 Anna knelt on the wooden chair her elbows 
 resting on the back. "Johann," she said.
 
 THE CIRCLE 43 
 
 He turned to her. 
 
 " You trust me, don't you ? " 
 
 His eyes were eloquent. 
 
 " Say it in words." 
 
 "I trust you!" 
 
 " That ""s right ! Now listen. 1 11 take your jewel 
 to the house where the others should have gone."" 
 
 " Anna ! " 
 
 " Yes. Don't say anything. 1 11 take it." Her 
 voice quickened ; she suddenly knelt up. " Johann, 
 say that I can go ? " The strength of her anticipa- 
 tion flashed across her eyes ; the force of her excite- 
 ment passed unconsciously to the man. He moved 
 towards her, his face lighted by a new hope. 
 
 " It would mean peace ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes, 't would mean peace." She grasped at the 
 word. " T would mean peace for you, Johann, and 
 and who knows what for me ? " She laughed 
 afresh and leant towards him. " Say * I trust you ! ' 
 again." 
 
 He moved awkwardly to the dresser and touched 
 the plates as he had done before ; then he turned. 
 " I trust you ! And and I can never forget."
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER Vll 
 
 COUNTING by human grades, the journey 
 from the southeast to the west of London 
 is longer than the crossing of the desert. 
 To Anna it was the momentous under- 
 taking of her life. Pursued part of the way on foot 
 and part by omnibus, it held her spell-bound with 
 interest and delight. 
 
 First came the by-ways, the intricate streets with 
 their jutting houses that had been familiar to her all 
 her life ; then the gradually widening thoroughfares, 
 the warehouses, the atmosphere of steady commerce, 
 the sense of colossal enterprise; lastly, after many 
 intermediate phases, hundreds of graduating shades, 
 the West End itself the throngs of people, the 
 glitter of shops, the colour and movement and 
 exhilaration, the surface suggestion of life without 
 a care, so novel to one bred in the ways of toil. It 
 fascinated and drew her forcibly ; for a time it 
 caused her to forget her errand and to loiter in 
 the crowd, as, dismounting from one omnibus, she 
 waited for the next that was to take her on her way. 
 But the defection was only momentary ; with a little 
 gasp she recognised her conveyance, tightened her 
 fingers round the small linen bag she carried in
 
 THE CIRCLE 45 
 
 her hand, and an instant later was hauled on to the 
 step by an irritated conductor. 
 
 Seated on the top of the omnibus, her interests 
 became personal again : blurring her eyes, she let 
 her thoughts steep themselves in consideration of 
 what was still to come. For ten minutes the day- 
 dream lasted ; then her gaze concentrated and with 
 a sting of reality she came back to facts. On one 
 hand, as the horses carried her soberly forward, lay 
 the park, stretching away in illimitable stillness, the 
 cropped grass still green, the bare tree-trunks, black 
 . .id mysterious against a background of fog ; on the 
 other, the tall, irregular houses with their aloofness, 
 their air of subdued well-being. The whole struck 
 on her with the suddenness of unreckoned-with 
 things ; the sense of a world widely separate from 
 her own fell on her with force. She leant forward 
 agitatedly and touched the driver's arm. 
 
 " Put me down at Palace Court." The sound of 
 her own voice disconcerted her afresh. 
 
 The man nodded, and it seemed that the harness 
 jingled louder as they swung steadily along. She 
 wondered why anything so common as a 'bus was 
 allowed to pass that way. After two minutes 1 wait 
 she leant out again. 
 
 " Is it near ? " 
 
 He pointed with his whip, and all at once her 
 breath seemed to leave her throat. A moment later 
 the horses were pulled up; she rose, her heart beat- 
 ing violently, her hand grasping the little bag, and
 
 46 THE CIRCLE 
 
 descended the steps with headlong speed. Almost 
 before she was aware, she was standing alone in the 
 roadway, watching the omnibus lurch placidly out 
 of sight. Then she walked to the foot-path and 
 considered her next act. 
 
 She drew a slip of paper from her pocket, read it 
 carefully and glanced at the indicated house ; then 
 quite slowly her gaze travelled to her dress of coarse 
 brown serge, and she became alive to the strongest 
 temptation that had assailed her yet the tempta- 
 tion to run away. The inclination was so compel- 
 ling that she turned involuntarily and walked for 
 a couple of yards ; then the face of Johann, pale 
 and nervous, rose before her, and she stood very 
 still. It was a trust ! She turned back ; her steps 
 dragged but did not swerve, she reached the house 
 without a halt ; there, setting her lips, she followed 
 the advice on the unfamiliar bell and pressed. 
 
 Far inside the house she heard a whizzing sound, 
 and as she waited a lightness stole through her, a 
 fresh sense of nervous anticipation that was entirely 
 new. The time seemed interminable ; then at last 
 the door swung softly back and she turned round. 
 A manservant was gazing at her with inquisitive 
 eyes. 
 
 The contact with a human presence braced her ; 
 the trepidation vanished and her courage came creep- 
 ing back. 
 
 " Does Mrs. Maxtead live here ? " she asked. Her 
 glance was level and direct ; but the man seemed lost
 
 THE CIRCLE 47 
 
 hi his scrutiny and she lifted her head. " Please be 
 quick ! " she added. " I have no time to waste." 
 
 He eyed her while he prepared a retort ; then he 
 smiled. " Time must be valuable where you come 
 from,"" he said. 
 
 The blood flew to her face and her lip trembled. 
 " It is," she said, after a pause. " There servants 
 have no time to speak; they have only time to 
 work. Tell Mrs. Maxtead I want to see her. Tell 
 her at once." Her voice rose. 
 
 For a second the man's dignity choked him ; then 
 he subdued it. " Mrs. Maxtead is not at home." 
 
 Anna's lips parted, but quite as swiftly they closed 
 again ; and at the same instant the man straightened 
 himself. From behind a curtain on the right of the 
 hall came the sound of a bell, imperatively rung. 
 
 " Stand in for a minute," he said ; " and keep on 
 the mat." He glanced doubtfully at her boots ; 
 then swiftly shutting the hall door, he turned and 
 disappeared behind the curtain. 
 
 For Anna there followed a difficult moment, a 
 moment in which she hung between a desire to cry 
 and a fresh longing to turn and fly. Then swiftly 
 as such things occasionally occur she forgot her 
 impulses, forgot her own existence even, in the sudden 
 fascination of something quite apart. From behind 
 the curtain came the sound of a voice the first cul- 
 tured woman's voice she had ever heard and strong 
 as a flame her power of appreciation sprang into life. 
 She stood breathless, attentive to every word.
 
 48 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Who is it, Branks ? Someone for me ? " The 
 voice was like water rippling under moss. 
 
 " A young woman, ma'am." The alteration in the 
 man's tone was notable. For the first time Anna 
 realised the gulf of class. 
 
 " What does she want ? What does she say ? " 
 
 " That she must see you, ma'am ; she says noth- 
 ing more." 
 
 The owner of the voice laughed a cool, well- 
 bred laugh. " You must make her say." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am.'* 
 
 " Branks wait ! " The voice seemed to linger 
 and hesitate. " Is she a common person ? " 
 
 Anna drew back a step ; for a second she hung in 
 dire suspense. Then Branks replied. 
 
 " Well, ma'am " He considered. " Her clothes 
 are shabby ; but she has a way if I might say it, 
 ma'am, a domineering-ordering way." 
 
 " Ah ? " The inflection was very faint. " You 
 may show her in. Yes in here ; I '11 see her here. 
 One's curiosity is so seldom touched." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." Branks deferentially withdrew. 
 
 In the hall he turned to Anna ; she noticed that 
 he still held himself very straight. 
 
 "You may follow me," he said, and his voice 
 sounded pompous and aggrieved. A second later, 
 with the clatter of brass rings, he drew the curtain 
 back.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IN the room there was a toning of rose and 
 mauve ; a toning that reminded Anna of John 
 Desinski, and the colour schemes over which 
 he used to rave in the attic above the shop. 
 It was an instinctive remembrance, but instinctively 
 it linked this other life with hers ; and unconsciously 
 she found the balance of incidents as she passed 
 through the door. 
 
 A small table was drawn luxuriously near the 
 fire, and the suggestion of lunch was still visible in 
 the disorder of silver and glass. The occupant of 
 the room raised her head, and disappointment was the 
 first feeling that sped through Annans mind. The 
 beautiful voice did not belong to a beautiful face. 
 She paused almost disconcerted ; then a second ex- 
 pression, the stealing of a fresh impression crossed 
 her eyes, and she moved on again. 
 
 The owner of the voice looked up. " You must n't 
 hesitate," she said. " I have finished my lunch 
 quite."" She pushed back her chair and laid down 
 the book that she was holding. She was a woman of 
 thirty with dark hair and delicate skin, but with eyes 
 that were almost unfeminine in their restless glance. 
 A woman devoid of good looks, but with a personal-
 
 50 THE CIRCLE 
 
 ity and a distinction that were magnetic a woman 
 who need never fear a crowd. 
 
 Without understanding, Anna felt something of 
 this. She moved forward mechanically, studying 
 the face before her line by line ; at last she rested 
 her hand on the edge of the table and spoke. 
 
 "It's quite wonderful," she said thoughtfully, 
 "how you suit your voice. If you'd been pretty 
 you would n't have suited it half so well not half 
 so well. 1 * 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead stared ; then she laughed. " Branks 
 was correct,"" she said, looking at the girl. "You 
 certainly have a way. Where in the world do you 
 come from ? I thought they had ceased to manu- 
 facture in the original, nowadays. 1 " 
 
 Anna blushed, then moved uncertainly. " You 
 must n't ask me that," she said. " I have promised, 
 at least " She stumbled at the words. " My 
 father came from Russia, years ago, if that is 
 what you mean," she added in a courteous after 
 thought. 
 
 The other laughed again, and a faint irony under - 
 ran the softness of the sound ; a tone that caught 
 one up with a sting of interest at its start and lulled 
 one into forgetfulness at its fall; a curious effect 
 of salt and sweet that tingled the senses into activ- 
 ity and left them anxious for what was yet to 
 come. 
 
 " I thought it was n't quite the English type," she 
 said slowly. " The English type has such a tendency
 
 THE CIRCLE 51 
 
 to knock at doors. Now you would never knock at 
 a door if you wanted to get in ? " 
 
 Anna considered. " I think it would depend, 1 ' she 
 said truthfully. " If it were a man's door, I think I 
 should knock." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead lay back in her chair. " You irre- 
 sistible child ! Come and have some coffee ? I could 
 sit and ask you things for hours. 1 " 
 
 Anna moved, then paused. " But " she began, 
 "but " 
 
 " My dear child, there is no such word. Come ! 
 The coffee is quite hot ; and there are years in which 
 to tell me what you want." She drew forward a low 
 stool with a brocaded cushion and set it beside her 
 chair. " This ought to suit you you have the see- 
 ing eyes. 11 She smiled. " You should sit low down 
 in front of a fire with your hands about your knees, 
 and see castles and dream dreams. You do it, I 
 know." 
 
 A slight wonder spread over Anna's face. " Don't 
 you see pictures ? " she asked. 
 
 " I ! My dear child, I find too many things to 
 see in life. I might gaze into the fire for minutes, 
 but I ? d only calculate the amount of cinders my coal 
 merchant makes his profit by. I am hopelessly com- 
 mercial, you see to the finger-tips." She laughed 
 and spread her hands to the blaze. They were per- 
 fect in shape, but, like all that surrounded her, they 
 gave their own peculiar sense of fineness underlaid by 
 steel. The impression was distinct ; it gave Anna a
 
 52 THE CIRCLE 
 
 little thrill, and sent the recollection of her errand 
 flashing back upon her with double force. She took 
 the proffered seat, then resolutely looked up into her 
 companion's face. 
 
 " Mrs. Maxtead," she said ; then she waited, for 
 there was an uncontrollable tremor in her voice. It 
 was well enough to rehearse the scene in the raw air 
 or in the dust and shadow of the shop, but its real- 
 ity was disconcerting. She had made no allowance 
 for a listener with a manner perfectly even, perfectly 
 and coolly sweet, but with eyes that seemed to 
 run through the mind and pigeonhole the thoughts 
 before they could spring to words. It was more 
 than disconcerting. She squeezed the little bag 
 hidden in the palm of her hand and made a new 
 start. 
 
 " You are expecting jewels from Vienna pink 
 topaz jewels with pearl and diamond rims." She 
 stopped. The plunge was taken and she felt like the 
 swimmer who, rising to the top of the water, shakes 
 the spray from his eyes and looks about. She looked 
 round, wondering how big the splash had been. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was looking at her ; her eyes were 
 narrowed and glittering with interest, but her face 
 was quite unmoved. 
 
 " Yes ? " she said in ever so still a voice ; then she 
 paused. 
 
 Anna found the pause more difficult than the word. 
 She pushed back her stool and rose. 
 
 "Well," she said hurriedly, "you will never get
 
 THE CIRCLE 53 
 
 those stones they have been stolen they are 
 gone."" She drew a gasping breath ; she felt as 
 though someone must strike her a curious sensa- 
 tion that caused her to draw back a step and half 
 raise her hand. 
 
 But Mrs; Maxtead was unmoved. " Well ? " she 
 said as quietly as before. 
 
 Anna looked desperately round : in the atmos- 
 phere of tense calm she felt that she was losing hold. 
 " You must n't ask me any questions,"" she cried ; 
 " you must n't ask me a thing not a thing. I can 
 only tell you the stones are gone ; that they Ve 
 been stolen all of them but one, and that 
 one " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's position never altered, but her 
 eyes concentrated into a question, and the fingers 
 that held her coffee-cup looked stiff where their 
 pressure showed. She reminded Anna of a stealthily 
 watchful cat. 
 
 " You must think me a very silly woman," she said. 
 " Do you know that I am twice your age ? " 
 
 Anna clasped her hands. " I have n't thought of 
 of anything," she said. " I only know that you will 
 never see any of your jewels except except this one 
 that I have brought you back." Her face was scarlet 
 with excitement; she tried to open the little bag, 
 but her hands shook. " It came to me I cannot 
 tell you how ; and 't was my duty 't was my duty 
 to bring it back." Her voice as well as her fingers 
 were shaking. Her companion's eyes were on her face.
 
 54 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Who told you where to bring it ? " The voice 
 was like the crisp breaking of ice. 
 
 " I cannat tell you that."" 
 
 " Suppose I were to compel you ? " 
 
 "You could n't compel me." 1 Anna looked up. 
 
 "I don't ino\v. There are some very efficient 
 ways." 
 
 Anna suddenly raised her head, and at the same 
 instant the string of the bag came undone. " No 
 one could make me say," she said. " I think you 
 know that as well as well as if you were me." 
 The look in her eyes was not a common look, her 
 voice was fearless and clear. With a swift move- 
 ment she tore the clasp from its covering and held 
 it out. Take it ! " she said. 
 
 Still Mrs. Maxtead was immovable, not even her 
 eyelids stirred. She was watching the girl with a 
 quiet, alert gaze. 
 
 " Why don't you look at it ? Why don't you 
 take it?" 
 
 " Because I am thinking of something else." 
 
 Anna threw the clasp upon the table. " Well, I 've 
 done it. I can go now." She walked to the door. 
 
 " Wait for a minute." The voice was essentially 
 persuasive. The girl paused. " Would you like to 
 know what my thought was ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? " 
 
 She turned. " I 'd like to know why you pre- 
 tended not to see the clasp."
 
 THE CIRCLE 55 
 
 tt It was not pretence." 
 
 "Then what? 1 ' 
 
 " I saw something that interested me more.'" 
 
 Anna moved away again. "You are laughing," 
 she said. 
 
 " Yes at myself." The woman raised her bril- 
 liant eyes and opened them wide. " I have lost 
 or you tell me I have lost a present worth hun- 
 dreds of pounds. Being a woman, I should go 
 into hysterics, instead of which, contrary to all 
 traditions, I feel a new interest and a new energy 
 flowing through me by quite a new gate. I see 
 possibilities and I want to grasp them. You don't 
 understand ? Of course you don't. They are all 
 wrapped up in haze like the rising sun." She 
 laughed and moved forward, her voice as soft as 
 the rustle of her dress. " You have shown me 
 more than the jewel," she said, " a good deal more, 
 and you have made me greedy to increase my knowl- 
 edge. I wonder whether you would come to me 
 again if I were to ask ? " She laid her hands with 
 their firm pressure on the girl's arm. " Come and 
 see me again ? " She raised her eyebrows in question 
 and smiled. 
 
 For a moment Anna's pride wavered. She looked 
 across the room at the costly furniture, then down at 
 her hostess's dress ; then at last she raised her eyes. 
 " I think I 'd love to come," she said. 
 
 " And you are not too angry to shake hands ? " 
 
 * I 'na not vexed at all now." Her fingers re-
 
 56 THE CIRCLE 
 
 turned the other's pressure. " I shall come when- 
 ever you like." 
 
 " Say this day next week ? " 
 
 " This day next week." Like a dream she saw the 
 curtain swing back, and like a dream she saw Branks 
 open the hall door ; then the cool, keen air blew 
 across her face, whipping back the recollection of 
 herself. 
 
 Inside the room of pink lights and mauve shadows, 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved to and fro. Before the hall 
 door had closed her hand was on the bell ; a moment 
 later Branks was in the room. 
 
 " Where is Celeste ? " she asked. 
 
 " In your room, ma'am." It was only on occasion 
 that Branks heard the ring, resembling the ring of 
 steel, in his mistress's voice, but he knew it well 
 enough to be swift in his response. 
 
 " Let her put on her hat, and send her to me 
 here." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "And, Branks remember there is always time 
 for gossip later on." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." Branks retired. 
 
 Twice Mrs. Maxtead walked from the fire to the 
 window and back again ; her glance flitted from 
 place to place ; her fingers seemed trembling to act. 
 At last she stopped by the over mantel. 
 
 " It is a look in itself," she said suddenly and aloud ; 
 " a look quite in itself. This man has it " She
 
 THE CIRCLE 57 
 
 picked up a photograph and studied it intently ; it 
 was the picture of a musician who had made the 
 whole world turn round. "Catrina Lotz had it; 
 Leone Perez had it ; and it was in the girl's eyes as 
 she threw up her head I 'm sure it was. It is in- 
 spiration whatever its output, whatever its groove." 
 She pressed her finger-tips excitedly on the mantel- 
 shelf. " Inspiration ! " she said below her breath. 
 " The one thing to set a match to the world the 
 one thing that really lights."" Her hands dropped 
 to her sides. 
 
 " Ah, Celeste ! " she said, as she turned round.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER IX 
 
 IT was late afternoon when Anna entered the 
 shop. Johann looked up, the duster in his 
 hand fell to the ground, and he leant back 
 against the counter. 
 " Well ? " he said. 
 
 She walked up to him, took off her hat and threw 
 it into a corner ; then sprang on to the counter and 
 sat swinging her feet. The dusk had fallen heavily, 
 and the ill-smelling oil lamp had not yet heen lit ; 
 only the tiny candle in Solny's office shed a wavering 
 gleam. Her face was in full shadow, but even in the 
 shadow Johann felt the light that her presence made 
 the inimitable flash of youth and exhilaration that 
 no after time can reproduce. Instinctively he hung 
 his head. 
 
 There followed a full, momentous pause which the 
 scratching of old Solny's pen inadequately filled. At 
 last she leant forward and laying her hands on his 
 shoulders, turned his face slowly round to hers. 
 " Johann,' 1 she whispered rapturously, " I have seen 
 it! Think of it I have seen it at last!" She 
 swayed back and forward, little gasps of delighted 
 laughter slipping in between her words. " Oh, 
 Johann ! Johann ! "
 
 THE CIRCLE 59 
 
 He drew back. " Seen what ? " His voice was 
 timorously low. 
 
 " Why, life, of course ! Life ! " She shook him a 
 little, then looked away into the darkness over his 
 head. " Oh, Johann, but it is fine ! They have 
 silver dishes to eat from, and carpets like moss ; and 
 and everything that isn't glittery is silk " She 
 stopped to catch her breath. 
 
 " Yes and the clasp ? " 
 
 She laughed. " The clasp. Why, she has rings 
 that flash like twenty clasps." She dismissed the 
 subject summarily and returned to her train of 
 thought. " She gave me coffee in little gilded cups 
 that father would have died of envy for ; she made 
 me sit on an inlaid stool, and oh, Johann, it was 
 too lovely ! It was too lovely ! " She clasped her 
 hands. " I ran most of the way home. It was too 
 wonderful to sit quite still." 
 
 There was a fresh wait, then Johann spoke dully. 
 " I shall light the lamp," he said. 
 
 " The lamp ! Oh, Johann, no. It makes the 
 place so stuffy, and I burn. Feel ! " She raised one 
 of his hands and put it against her cheek. " Let 's 
 sit here in the dark and talk ? " 
 
 He made no response. 
 
 " Johann." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You are silent or sad. Johann ! " She slipped 
 to the ground. " You don't ask things. You are n't 
 excited a bit ; you are n't glad." Her voice fell.
 
 60 THE CIRCLE 
 
 But the silence continued. 
 
 " Tell me what it is." 
 
 " It is nothing nothing " He moved away 
 from her. Somewhere in his heart there was a dread 
 a dread in whose shadow his own inefficiency, his 
 own pitiable terrors became very dwarfed. " I am 
 stupid," he said below his breath. " I do not know 
 what to ask. I would ask I would ask, if I knew."" 
 He turned again abruptly, trying to see her face. 
 
 But she missed his mood. When one is young it 
 is hard to be anything beside ; youth is all-embracing 
 in its demands. The whole world to her eyes was a 
 blur of rose and mauve. She laid her hands on his 
 shoulders again and laughed. 
 
 " You dear stupid thing ! " she said. " You dear 
 stupid thing ! How I 'd like to wake you up ! You 
 are dull to-night, and I could sing and run and be 
 mad the world is so good." 
 
 " The world is a child's puzzle," he said sadly, " it 
 has two sides." 
 
 She caught him up swiftly. " If it has two sides, 
 then we can turn up which we like ; you have de- 
 feated yourself ! " She laughed again. She was 
 like a young horse set loose in a wide field ; there 
 was a space in things that she had not realised 
 before. Her exuberance of spirit rose up, demand- 
 ing vent. " Oh, Johann," she cried, " it is more 
 splendid than I ever dreamt. When I was little, I 
 fancied that this street was the whole world that 
 there was nothing else beyond. Then one day, John
 
 THE CIRCLE 61 
 
 Desinski took me with him into the city and I 
 understood. I was very little then, but nothing 
 frightened me not the cabs nor the horses nor the 
 
 o 
 
 crowds. I only wanted to drive the horses for my- 
 self; to grow up quickly and be one of the people 
 who jostled and pushed. To-night it *s the same ! " 
 Her voice lifted and fell with her words ; Johanivs 
 visionary shadow dropped on him again. He jerked 
 his shoulders from her touch and walked away. 
 
 For an instant she swayed in his direction, then 
 some remembrance of the day struck her still again, 
 and she stayed motionless with widely opened eyes. 
 The dim shop became a palace from which at any 
 moment the mysterious veil might lift, her father's 
 pen the quill of some recording deity, and Johann 
 poor, deformed Johann no more than the spectre 
 outside the gates. She stood immovable, wrapped 
 within herself. 
 
 Five minutes drew slowly out, then Johann crept 
 back to her again and touched her hand. His 
 presence came with a jerk ; she drew back, then 
 laughed. 
 
 " Johann, you frightened me ! You crawl so in 
 the dark." 
 
 He murmured inaudibly, then raised his voice, 
 " Anna, I have been wondering " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 He shuffled with his feet. " I have been thinking 
 wondering n He halted. "It never comes to 
 you that you will leave the shop one day ? "
 
 62 THE CIRCLE 
 
 She peered at him through the gloom. " Why do 
 you ask such silly things ? " Six hours before she 
 would have answered his question with a laugh, now 
 she halted over her reply. To herself the hesitation 
 passed unseen, but it gripped at Johann's heart. He 
 broke headlong in upon her words. 
 
 " I was foolish, Anna ; it was the sadness of the 
 dusk. It was the thought of your your brightness 
 and the other thought. Forget that I spoke."" He 
 made a strenuous attempt to laugh. 
 
 But Anna was silent ; when she spoke again her 
 voice was tentative and still. "Johann," she said 
 very softly, " do you really think that I could for- 
 get that father is quite old that the shop that 
 you " She stopped, and there was a question 
 in her attitude as she leant towards him. Then 
 abruptly and characteristically she lifted her head 
 and sprang back to her former seat. "Johann," 
 she cried, " you are right quite right ! One does 
 grow silly in the dark. Light the lamp ! "
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was seven days later. Mrs. Maxtead was 
 standing by the mantelpiece when the cur- 
 tain was drawn back and Anna, smiling and 
 radiant, walked into the room. She watched 
 her enter with an expression that was impossible to 
 read ; her eyes were cold and bright ; in her hand 
 she held the musician's photograph. She laid the 
 picture in its place, then she smiled and put out her 
 hand. 
 
 " I had almost begun to wonder whether you 
 would come though your voice should have made 
 me know." 
 
 " My voice ? " Anna took the extended hand. 
 
 " Yes. You are original enough to have a candid 
 voice. But you are cold. Come to the fire."" With 
 perfect graciousness she continued to hold the girl's 
 hand drawing her gently closer, till they stood 
 side by side. 
 
 "Now warm yourself. Is it snowing again? I 
 never look through windows in winter time. 1 " 
 
 Anna did not answer. She was noting little 
 changes, storing material for future dreams. She 
 saw with a pang, half pain, half admiration, that her 
 hostess wore a different and more elaborate dress ;
 
 64 THE CIRCLE 
 
 she noticed that books and flowers had both been 
 changed, and that a deep settee had taken the place 
 of the luncheon-table before the fire. It was quite 
 a minute before she raised her eyes. 
 
 " I wonder why you care to have me," she said at 
 length. 
 
 For an instant their glances met, and they studied 
 each other with that look so peculiar to the moment 
 and to their sex. The first acquaintance of women 
 resembles a shooting plant. The bare bough is rife 
 with promise ; from its brownness may spring flowers 
 or thorns, according as the sun shines or the wind 
 cuts ; but for the moment the all-pervading mo- 
 ment it is a bare bough and nothing more. They 
 watched each other for a moment ; then the elder 
 shook things into their groove with a laugh. 
 
 " We shall be friends,"" she said. " I have an 
 instinct that is never quite astray." Her eyes con- 
 tinued to rest on the girl's face, but their glance 
 softened and deepened in a way that was more 
 eloquent than sound. 
 
 Anna, who was usually restive under flattery, re- 
 sponded to the look as to a ray of warmth. " You 
 are kind," she said suddenly ; " as kind as you are 
 clever." There was a ring of admiration on the 
 final word. 
 
 " Clever ! " The other laughed. " My dear child, 
 how much you have to learn ! " She dropped the 
 hand that she was holding and moved away ; then 
 she turned again, a new expression on her face. She
 
 THE CIRCLE 65 
 
 had the invaluable gift of choosing the moment: 
 with her, confidence was ever a bid for something 
 higher rarely a futile one. She chose her words 
 now with a critical perception of her listener's mind 
 chose them slowly, with infinite care. " My dear 
 little girl," she said, " there are two classes of people 
 in the world the people who are clever, and the 
 people who are keen and you must never mix the 
 two; they meet and touch, they are necessary to 
 each other, but they never, never blend. Sit down ! 
 You will be tired." Her voice changed on a new 
 sentence with extreme rapidity, though never en- 
 croaching on the principle of her theme. She gave 
 Anna one of her sudden smiles, then turned again 
 to the fire, her glance straying restlessly from che 
 burning logs to the toe of her slipper as it rested 
 on the fender. 
 
 " It is just four years since I sorted my capacities 
 and classed myself. Some people find the process 
 difficult ; it came rather easily to me. r 
 
 Anna looked up from the settee. She was vividly 
 enthralled and feared to break the enchantment even 
 by a breath. She was raised to an altitude where 
 the air was difficult and rarefied, where she scarcely 
 acknowledged her own being. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead, gazing abstractedly into the over- 
 mantel mirror, studied the excited face and smiled 
 cautiously. When she spoke again, there was a 
 faintly deprecating tone running with her v.oixls. 
 
 " I was twenty-five when my husband died, leaving 
 6
 
 66 THE CIRCLE 
 
 me with hundreds of acquaintances and a thousand, 
 pounds a year. 1 " She stopped again, and picking 
 up the photograph that she had touched before, 
 made it a screen to shield her face. "Now with 
 a thousand pounds a year one is barely rich enough 
 to have desires." She turned with an ironical 
 glance. 
 
 Anna looked up dreamily. She followed the 
 sense of the words vaguely, as one follows the story 
 of an opera. It was the necessary adjunct to the 
 magnetic voice, as the argument is the immaterial 
 adjunct to the music. It gave her the opportunity 
 to listen. 
 
 " Please talk on," she said. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laid down the photograph as she 
 had done before, and crossed to the girl's side. tk It 
 is very seldom that I talk about myself,"" she said, 
 " because it is very rarely that I wish to be under- 
 stood." She sank on the settee and took one of 
 Anna's hands, stroking it evenly till her rings made 
 a swerve of light. Her touch as well as her voice 
 possessed a magnetic thrill. 
 
 " It was then that I stood up straight and looked 
 about. I had to make my one thousand into four, 
 so I had to know myself." 
 
 Anna waited, watching the strong, supple fingers 
 caress her own. 
 
 " What do you guess that i discovered ? " 
 
 Anna shook her head. 
 
 " I discovered that 1 had a capacity all my own."
 
 THE CIRCLE 67 
 
 She rose again. Her restlessness was indomitable, 
 something she had never quite subdued. She 
 crossed to a table and picking up an unread book, 
 began to cut the leaves. " It was a capacity " 
 She used the paper-knife with little jerks. " A 
 capacity for exploiting clever people, while never 
 claiming cleverness for myself. It is a track few 
 people have followed, because few people are really 
 wise. It sounds second hand, but it is not. It 
 has a fund of excitement that one can never 
 plumb. It is almost sport ! " She moved back 
 again and stood with her back to the fire. Then 
 she laughed. 
 
 " I flatter myself that my position in life is 
 quite unique. In four veal's I have helped quite 
 thirty people to tolerable success, and without 
 making one obligation or sapping one independ- 
 ence. I have never offended a woman, because I 
 have studied how to take a second place with 
 grace ; and I have kept every man friend I ever 
 made by the simple means of never expecting 
 and never allowing him to make love." She 
 paused and touched her dark hair with a peculiar 
 gesture, a gesture that was like a fine comparison 
 or a neatly made point. Then she smiled once 
 more and pressed the bell. " How I have talked," 
 she said in a lowered voice. " My throat feels like 
 dry sand." 
 
 Branks had brought in the tea, replenished the 
 fire, and disappeared again before either spoke.
 
 68 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Then it was Anna who broke the pause ; her eves 
 were filled with thoughtful shadows, her moutii was 
 grave. 
 
 " What do you mean by exploit ? " she asked, as 
 she crossed the room to fetch her cup. " No. No 
 cream, please." 
 
 " I know; I provided a lemon on purpose to seem 
 Russian ; I want you to think that my memory is 
 good. To exploit a person is to do for them what 
 they are too lazy or too incapable to do for them- 
 selves ; to run them, if you know what running 
 means. There is young Anton Golstock, for ex- 
 ample. Hot cakes or cold ? " 
 
 Anna's cup became unsteady for a moment. She 
 took a tiny cake. 
 
 " There is Anton Golstock, a clever boy nephew 
 to old Golstock of Vienna, who adores him. Well, 
 he has talent as certainly as his uncle had money, 
 but neither talent nor money can do quite every- 
 thing though foolish people think they can. There 
 were some particular doors that Anton was keen to 
 open, and it happened that I possessed the keys. It 
 was all very simple, and those jewels you spoke of the 
 other day were the logical result. If one were bitter, 
 one might call them the oil for the locks ; but 
 bitterness is such an unqualified mistake." She ate 
 a biscuit critically and sipped her tea ; then she 
 looked at Anna with a swift, satirical smile. " Well,"" 1 
 she said, " what have you deduced ? " Her tone 
 was light, but her eyes flashed over the girl's face.
 
 THE CIRCLE 69 
 
 Anna stared into the fire. At last she spoke, 
 " I think as I thought at first." 1 
 " And that is " 
 
 The girl lifted her eyes. " That you are the 
 cleverest person I know.""
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XI 
 
 A" TER Anna's pronouncement there was a 
 lengthy pause. To the girl it was an 
 immaterial one, for the atmosphere that 
 surrounded her the warmth of the 
 room, the sense of autumnal flowers was sufficient to 
 fill any space ; but to her companion it held a mean- 
 ing that ran below the surface and interwove itself 
 with facts, as the pattern in the loom weaves through, 
 imprinting itself upon the silk. It was a moment of 
 appreciation so spontaneous and sincere that she ac- 
 cepted it instinctively, forgetting to look ironically 
 for the hidden motive power. 
 
 All new sensations are quieting for their own 
 duration. Mrs. Maxtead sat still for a space of 
 time; her fingers toyed with ier teacup, then with 
 her spoon ; her hazel eyes alternately lightened and 
 deepened with the procession of her thoughts. At 
 la,st the silver clock by her hand struck five, and the 
 necessity for action came leaping hack. With a 
 slight movement of her shoulders she became her 
 habitual self alert, critical, keen. She ceased to 
 move her fingers ; her lips parted for speech, but 
 closed again. Then she rose. 
 
 She rose softly ; her motions slight, as the rustle 
 of a leaf. For an instant Anna turned and looked at
 
 THE CIRCLE 71 
 
 her, then returned to her watching of the fire. She 
 crossed to the piano, her movements so gentle as to 
 suggest stealth ; then, still silently, she seated her- 
 self, and her fingers passed in mute thought across 
 the keys. Then with sudden resolution she began to 
 play. 
 
 Anna stirred, leant forward questioningly, then 
 dropped back again. 
 
 The piece was the " Storm Prelude " of Chopin. 
 Why she chose the theme it would be difficult to say, 
 though from every act of hers ran a thread of reason, 
 whose shuttle sometimes floated on the surface of 
 facts, sometimes hung vaguely in their midst, and 
 sometimes lay at the bottom, inscrutable and unseen. 
 The first faintly repeated note fell on the silence 
 almost casually, as the first action in a great series 
 of events might fall. One felt that there was mastery 
 if not genius in the player's touch in the strength 
 of her fingers, in the poise of the sound. 
 
 In complete silence, with one motionless listener, 
 the music went on and on. The soft toning of the 
 room melted into firelight the fireglow of deep 
 shadows and coloured lights. Beside the piano the 
 tall chrysanthemum plants stood boldly up, their 
 soft leaves a mere suggestion, their massed blooms a 
 blot of pink, their scent, pungent and reminiscent, 
 mingling in the air. The player's eyes fell separately 
 and critically upon every detail ; then, with a perfect 
 evenness of glance, they ran the polished length of 
 the piano and paused on the listener's face show-
 
 72 THE CIRCLE 
 
 ing clear against the background of the settee. 
 They rested on it long and studiously, passing from 
 the curve of the hair and the sweep of the thick 
 eyelashes to the generous, impulsive lips. And all 
 the \vhile the music swelled and grew, with no sug- 
 irestion lost, no point missed, the chords crashing 
 and merging, the compelling motive growing domi- 
 nant with every repeated note. 
 
 It was a fine moment. The player's eyes were 
 cold, questioning, and bright, her fingers unerring. 
 The sounds cut the silence into pain, the pathos 
 and loss seemed to beat together ; then, with con- 
 summate effect, breaking upon the repeated note, 
 came silence the silence that only such a pause can 
 be. The player's hands dropped quietly to her sides, 
 but her eyes did not swerve. 
 
 Anna caught her breath uneasily and turned round. 
 
 " What 's that ? " she said. " What 's it called ? " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead leant forward ; her figure was ob- 
 servant in every line. 
 
 " Come here ! " she said. 
 
 Anna rose and crossed the room. 
 
 There was a silver match-box on the piano. Mrs. 
 Maxtead put out her hand, quietly picked it up and 
 struck a match. 
 
 The momentary light shot up and the girl's face 
 was illumined the whiteness of her teeth between 
 the parted lips, the suddenly narrowed pupils of the 
 eyes. Mrs. Maxtead looked swiftly from one to the 
 other, then blew on the flame and dropped the match.
 
 THE CIRCLE 73 
 
 " Ah, well," she said ; " there are more roads to 
 Rome than one." 
 
 Anna stared. " I don't understand." 
 
 " Did I expect you to understand ? " She ro.se 
 and laid her hand on the girl's arm. " Now I am 
 going to ask for a concession. I want to hear your 
 name." She pressed the arm she held. " I must call 
 you something, or how can we be friends ? " 
 
 " My name is Anna." The girl raised her eyes. 
 
 " Anna that means graciousness." 
 
 Anna was silent. 
 
 " And what comes afterwards ? You can surely 
 trust me such a little way ? " 
 
 The girl counted the leaves on one chrysanthemum 
 plant while she made her decision ; then for the 
 second time she lifted her eyes. 
 
 " I think you have the right to ask. It is Anna 
 Solny. My father was Nicholas Solnikoff, but he 
 dropped the ending when the persecution came. He 
 says that in England it is wiser to be brief." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead smiled. " A philosopher ! And a 
 Jew, eh ? " 
 
 Anna nodded. 
 
 " A Russian Jew ! " She ceased to smile and 
 once more glanced in the direction of the fire. " A 
 Russian Jew ! " she said again. " There has n't been 
 an inspired Russian Jew since She broke off 
 and looked up. " Do you know the history of your 
 race?" 
 
 Anna took a step back. " No. My father never
 
 74 THE CIRCLE 
 
 speaks of his religion or of his people ; he says that 
 he has suffered too much for both. He says that God 
 is for everyone to find with his own lamp. He is a 
 strange man my father. 11 She stopped. 
 
 There was an interval. Mrs. Maxtead continued 
 to look towards the glowing coals; Anna stood 
 motionless. At last the former broke the silence. 
 
 " A Russian Jew ! " she said again. Then she 
 turned, her manner changed. " Do you know that 
 this father of yours, with his philosophies, his 
 theories, his strangeness, may have gone critically 
 near to making a career to being a great teacher or 
 a great leader ? Do you know that suppressed races 
 burst out at intervals, like volcanoes, in a flash of 
 flame a flash of genius ? You must study your 
 people you must know your race. 11 
 
 For a moment the cold voice was warmed. To 
 Anna it seemed as if silver had suddenly melted into 
 gold ; her hesitancy fell from her ; she stepped to the 
 other's side. 
 
 " When you talk like that," she said simply, " you 
 make me see pictures like the pictures in the fire. 11 
 She spoke earnestly, with the earnestness of a child. 
 
 When Mrs. Maxtead responded, her tone, her very 
 gestures, were carefully ruled. " You are very good 
 to my voice," she said. " Some day it must move 
 you to greater things than a fire could do." She 
 laughed gently and drew the girl across the room ; 
 by the manbelpiece she released her arm and sank on 
 to the settee. " As for those pictures." She sat up
 
 THE CIRCLE 75 
 
 and touched Anna's waist. " Tell me what they look 
 like. Tell me what you do with them when they are 
 made. 11 Insensibly her touch tightened ; she drew the 
 girl lower and nearer till they sat side by side ; then 
 once more she took the hand she had been holding, and 
 stroked it every motion accompanying a word. 
 
 "Everyone who makes a dream, 11 she said, "puts 
 his dream into an act or wishes to. That man 
 with the curious mouth " She nodded towards 
 the picture on the mantel-shelf. " That man puts 
 his dreams into the bow of his violin and draws 
 them out into realities for thousands and thousands 
 of ears. Others " She spoke slowly, tentatively. 
 " Others put theirs into colours and mediums, and 
 make big spaces of canvas into living things " 
 She paused keenly, and glanced for the twentieth 
 time at the girl's face. 
 
 Anna's hand tightened on hers, but the glance 
 that responded to her words was not the glance 
 that she waited for. 
 
 "Oh, I know," cried the girl. "John Desinski 
 made his dreams like that." 
 
 " John Desinski ! " Mrs. Maxtead quietly dropped 
 the hand. " Who was John Desinski ? " 
 
 " He was an artist a Polish artist." Anna spoke 
 dreamily with a ring of memory in her voice. " Quite 
 poor but with so much hope. He was an exile, 
 like my father ; and my father gave him shelter. He 
 had nothing but his canvases and tubes, but he used 
 to sing the whole day long as he worked in the attic
 
 76 THE CIRCLE 
 
 room. And when I took him up his meals for 
 sometimes he 'd forget to eat he 'd put down his 
 palette and cat el i my hands, swinging them to and 
 fro ; and he 'd speak with tears and laughter mix- 
 ing in his voice. ' Ah, little Anna ! " he used to say. 
 * Little Anna ! When my ships come home ! ' But 
 then his voice would break off short and he 'd 
 cough, while the colour rushed into his face. 'T was 
 always the same. How well I remember ! But he 
 died five years ago/'' Her tone dropped. " He died 
 before he painted the great picture that was to 
 bring fortune to us all. It was very sad." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead shivered. " Don't talk of death," 
 she said ; " it is the one inevitable that I refuse to 
 reckon with." She took the girl's hand again. " So 
 he painted pictures ? And what did you do while 
 the pictures were being made?" 
 
 Anna looked up with an involuntary smile. 
 " Cleaned the palette," she said, " and sometimes 
 the palette knife ! " 
 
 " Never got to brushes ? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead pressed the hand that she was 
 holding. 
 
 " Then your dreams do not materialise through 
 sticky mediums and oily tubes?" Her tone was 
 light, but the half-intense, half-ironic question that 
 underran it was like a metal plating beaten very fine. 
 
 Anna considered for a moment, then looked 
 quaintly down. '* No," she said, " I hardlv think
 
 THE CIRCLE 77 
 
 they do. I once drew a pig, but John Desinski said 
 it was all tail and no tone. So I never tried again 
 after that." 
 
 They both laughed. 
 
 Then Mrs. Maxtead leant forward and stirred the 
 fire. " Road number two," she said enigmatically. 
 " But the position of Rome remains unchanged."
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XII 
 
 IF the curio shop, the domain of old Solny, was 
 silent with dust, the rest of the house the 
 parlour, the scanty bedrooms, the kitchen, each 
 nook and crevice where Anna's brooms and 
 cloths could make an entry reflected cleanliness 
 itself. It was her pride to be thorough ; and much 
 of the absorption that went to make her dreams, 
 straightened her shoulders and bent her knees to 
 unpleasant tasks. 
 
 Many a morning when the snow lay on the ground 
 and the dawn had scarcely broken over Felt Street, 
 the rattle of pails and pans might be heard in the tiny 
 yard, the curl of smoke be seen rising from the chim- 
 ney, as Anna, capable, self-reliant, and cheerful, went 
 about the making of her father's early cup of tea ; 
 a task that, as a child of seven with sleepy eyes and 
 numbed hands, she had first set herself to perform. 
 
 But whatever of her care, of her individuality, was 
 to be seen throughout the house, it was in her own 
 bedroom that she most markedly showed herself. A 
 narrow room with whitewashed walls, slanting ceiling, 
 and uneven floor, it was yet big enough to hold a 
 key to her inner mind a key that did not hang, 
 as one might have expected, on the space of wall
 
 THE CIRCLE 79 
 
 between the little ivory water-font and John Desin- 
 ski's study of a child's head ; but a key that lay upon 
 the bare boards in the form of an Eastern carpet 
 strip so rich of texture, so gorgeous of colouring, that 
 it defied time, and lay there in its scanty setting as 
 much a flower in the desert of poverty as on the day 
 when Anna, struggling under its weight, had proudly 
 carried it from the shop up the crooked stairs 
 breathing and pausing on every step. 
 
 What circumstance had made it hers, what deed 
 of virtue it had rewarded, what impulse on old 
 Solny's part it had shown forth, she had long ago 
 forgotten, but the thing remained eternal, un- 
 changing ; her prayer rug, her magician's carpet, 
 from whose arabesque she drew many a picture, in 
 whose glowing tones she had many times mirrored 
 the world from her narrow bed. It was part of Jier- 
 self; so woven to mystery in her imagination as 
 almost to take on human form. Each twist of the 
 design was the memento of some incident, the record 
 of some hour. Across the wide stripe of blue were 
 the two round marks where for years she had knelt 
 morning and night to whisper sometimes mechani- 
 cally, sometimes with an excess of ardour the aspi- 
 rations of the Greek church that John Desinski had 
 taught her to repeat. Then further down, where 
 the orange crossed the blue, was the great stain that 
 the broom had never quite removed the stain that 
 her tears had made when the same John Desinski, no 
 longer able to sing or work, a cold, still shadow of
 
 80 THE CIRCLE 
 
 himself, was nailed into the deal coffin and carried 
 with many horrible jerks and knocks down the nar- 
 row stairs. Then, last of all the newest, keenest 
 record of all came the mark of candle grease on the 
 triangle of black ; the open, palpable proof of a 
 heart that had throbbed and a hand that had 
 trembled with excitement as she carried her candle 
 upstairs on the first night that the enchanted wand 
 had touched her eyelids and she had seen life. 
 
 She gazed at it now as she stood leaning on the 
 handle of her sweeping-brush, the pan of newly- 
 gathered dust at her feet; gazed at it as she had 
 gazed a hundred times in the past weeks, with eyes 
 that saw in it an omen of unfathomable things. To 
 her it was partly sacred, the one blot upon her 
 treasure that she made no effort to wipe out. She 
 looked long and questioningly ; then she suddenly 
 straightened herself, tossed back her plait, and picked 
 up the dustpan with a jerk. Holding it carefully, 
 she crossed to the open window and overturned it on 
 the sill. Attentively she watched the specks, the 
 threads, the tiny scraps of dust eddy out upon the 
 air; then she dropped to her knees, taking her face 
 between her hands. 
 
 From the Passage below rose the occasional sound 
 of strife. It was the living hour of the day. Poles 
 with drying clothes hung from the opposite windows, 
 an odour of decaying vegetables hung on the air; 
 but above, where the slanting roofs cut the sky, 
 shone a space of frosty blue, and upon this she fixed
 
 THE CIRCLE 81 
 
 her gaze. She owned the inestimable quality of 
 seeing nothing below her wants. 
 
 Her eyes rested on the strip of blue, and away, 
 like zigzag lines, wandered the pictures of her mind. 
 Granite castles, towered and battlemented, rose out 
 of a shimmering cloud ; belts of fir-trees shot into 
 the air, frost-tipped and glistening as the sun ; white 
 avenues, stiff with ice, twisted to illimitable length. 
 She looked till her eyes ached, then she rose and 
 crossed the room. Her face was flushed, her eyes 
 dark ; she turned back the patched coverlet of the 
 bed and drew out a book. It was a small book 
 bound in calf ; the leaves, thin and yellow, were torn 
 in parts ; across the fly-leaf ran the title " Abra- 
 Mule ; or, Love and Empire. A Tragedy." Passing 
 this with small consideration, she opened the book 
 at "The Plain Dealer, a Comedy," and began to 
 read. The words from frequent perusal were known 
 to her, but through habit her eyes skimmed the 
 lines. 
 
 Five minutes passed ten minutes she still read 
 on. Then a knock fell upon the door. 
 
 She forgot to raise her head and the knock was 
 repeated. At last she lifted her chin. 
 
 " Come in ! "" she called, and at the same moment 
 she thrust the book into its hiding-place. 
 
 The handle turned, and Johann's face showed 
 round the corner of the door. 
 
 " You told me to tell you when it was twelve. It 
 
 is twelve now. 1 " He looked harassed and ill at ease. 
 
 I
 
 82 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Twelve already ! Come in, Johann, my work 's 
 all done. Come in while I put on my hat." 
 
 He obeyed slowly, and she wheeled towards him. 
 
 " Would you be nervous, to-day if you were 
 me ? " She pushed a chair in his direction. " I was 
 awake at five and I hardly ate any breakfast." 
 
 " I noticed," he said in a strained voice. 
 
 " After all, it is but natural, because it is the most 
 splendid day of all my life. When I return to-night 
 1 11 have seen a real play not a play in a booth 
 or a play in a book," she glanced involuntarily 
 towards the bed, " but a play in a theatre with 
 a real stage." She broke off abruptly and looked 
 across the room at the wistful face and the twisted 
 body, so painfully conscious of itself. " Johann, 
 isn't she too good to me?"" 
 
 Johann turned his face from the light. 
 
 " Whatever seems good to you, Anna is good 
 to me. It is but natural that she should love you. 
 It is but what I understand." 
 
 Anna ran to him and squeezed his fingers. 
 " Johann ! dear Johann ! How kind you are ! I 
 feared that you might be cross to-day, and now 
 you 're not. It seems good ! Look, even the sun 
 shines ! " She nodded towards the window, then 
 passed to the door and lifted her hat from the hook. 
 She looked at it with a momentary sigh. 
 
 " Oh, Johann, she has such lovely clothes ! Will 
 she be ashamed, d'you think, to be seen with 
 me?"
 
 THE CIRCLE 83 
 
 Johann gave one of his rare, harsh laughs. " Look 
 in the glass," he said. 
 
 She turned, hurt and puzzled. 
 
 " Forgive ! The frost makes my head ache. I am 
 bitter not worth one of your bright thoughts. 
 But can you understand ? " He half thrust out his 
 hand, then drew it back. " Can you understand ? 
 This woman who claims you who takes you away 
 day after day " He devoured her with his eyes. 
 " This woman, Anna, has all all ; and we your 
 father and I and the shop, we have nothing 
 nothing ! Ah, I grow stupid with jealous 
 thoughts " His words broke ; he rose and turned 
 towards the door. 
 
 Anna thrust on her hat and picked up her 
 coat. 
 
 " Johann ! " She caught his arm. " You grudge, 
 Johann?" 
 
 " Grudge ! Ah, no no." He turned vehe- 
 mently. " Grudge ! You know I would lie down 
 under your feet to bring you one little wish." 
 
 In some points a woman, in others still strangely 
 a child, Anna's eyes grew misty in quick response. 
 She was touched without comprehending ; without 
 realising, she saw. 
 
 " Have I been unkind, Johann, these two months 
 since you came ? " 
 
 " Unkind ! " He tried to smile. 
 
 "Then what?" 
 
 He shook his head.
 
 84 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " You won't tell ? " 
 * There is nothing to tell. 
 
 " Then you '11 come with me to the door ? You 11 
 say good-bye ? " 
 
 " Yes. I will come with you to the door." 
 
 They descended the stairs in silence, and in silence 
 passed through the low-ceiled shop. Anna paused 
 by her father's partitioned desk and tapped \fn the 
 glass. 
 
 " I am going out, father," she called. 
 
 Solny looked up with abstracted eyes. 
 
 " Ah, so ! Enjoy yourself, my child." He bent 
 his head again. 
 
 Anna turned to Johann. " Do fathers ever ask 
 where people go or seem to care ? Did your 
 father care ? " Her mind was strung by anticipation, 
 but she was aware suddenly of a dropped link some- 
 where in her own life. 
 
 Looking at her puzzled face, a great impatience of 
 old Solny rose in Johannes heart. " Perhaps some 
 day," he said involuntarily, " he will learn to care 
 too much." 
 
 Anna gazed at him in question. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "I told you I was 
 bitter to-day." He walked across the shop. 
 
 Her face was grave as she followed him to the 
 door ; but at the door the frost in the air was keen. 
 It swept doubt and disappointment before it, as 
 cobwebs are brushed aside. She turned her hand 
 held out.
 
 THE CIRCLE 85 
 
 " It "s my great day, Johann. Won't you say 
 1 Good luck'?" 
 
 Li contrast to the white world, Johann's face 
 looked grey. "Good luck. And and God take 
 care of you, Anna/ 1 
 
 She smiled up at him, but her eyes were seeing 
 ahead. The youth in the wintry air was calling in 
 kinship to her. She drew away her hand and ran 
 down the street. 
 
 He leant back against the door-post, hardly realis- 
 ing that she was gone ; then his mind quickened 
 with hope. She had forgotten him as she sped 
 away, but she would remember. At the corner of 
 the street she would remember and turn back. It 
 was a trivial hope ; the point of triviality is some- 
 times sharp and probes deep. In a flash the idea 
 conquered him. He leant out, peering down the 
 street. 
 
 He watched her eager step, the poise of her head 
 the everything and the nothing that in two months 
 had become the aureole about his being. On and on ; 
 farther and farther. He could see the lithe shoul- 
 ders straighten, he could feel her lips part as she 
 drank in the air. 
 
 " Ah, surely, surely The words broke from 
 him, then cracked on his lips. He moved back heart- 
 sick and dizzy. \ She had passed out of sight. 
 
 For a moment his eyes dropped, unable to rise 
 above the ground. Then imperceptibly, something 
 in the dazzling sky above his head attracted him
 
 86 THE CIRCLE 
 
 reminded him of her. He looked up laboriously ; 
 after a minute his lips moved. 
 
 " God take care of her ! " he said ; and turning, he 
 walked into the shop.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XII I 
 
 A~ ~D the play, Anna ? The play ? " 
 Anna was silent. It was the third time 
 she had been silent to the same ques- 
 tion, put on each occasion in a fresh 
 form. Without raising her eyes she stirred in the 
 deep chair and stretched her feet to the fire. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead pulled back the white silk curtains 
 of her bedroom windows and let the last of the grey 
 daylight fall into the room ; then she moved to the 
 dressing-table and shifted the silver scent-bottles from 
 place to place. She was on the eve of testing chance, 
 and through all her blood she felt the nearness of 
 events. 
 
 It had been decisive from the first. From the 
 moment that the footlights had been raised, and she 
 had caught sight of Anna's eyes in the dimness of the 
 box, she had felt the crisis in the air. 
 
 Her moment had come and she gripped it, meta- 
 phorically, between her fingers. Then, as a cat with 
 a mouee, she experienced the longing to let it slip a 
 little way for the keen delight of drawing it back 
 again. She would make certainty trebly certain be- 
 fore she burnt her boats. With a sense of exaltation 
 she loosened her fur wrap and laid it on the bed ; 
 then she crossed deliberately to the fire and stood
 
 88 
 
 behind Anna her elbows resting on the back of the 
 girl's chair, her face held between her hands. A com- 
 pelling vitality pervaded her ; there was a peculiar, 
 half-humorous expectation in her very attitude as 
 her glance fell on the girl's hair. 
 
 She chose her opening sentence with excessive care. 
 
 " My dear Anna," she said with cutting clearness, 
 "you are absolutely wrong. The woman was absurd 
 in the,. part. Absurd!" She smiled her keen smile 
 as she saw the impassive shoulders stiffen, but her 
 face was blank as Anna turned round. 
 
 " Absurd ? " The girl spoke questionmgly, a 
 vague reproach overshadowing her eyes ; then her 
 face flushed, becoming suddenly and sensitively 
 alive. " How can you be so so unjust ! " There 
 was a thrill in her voice. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's lids were lowered ; she looked 
 carefully at her polished nails. The trap had been 
 almost too well baited. With extreme consistency 
 she controlled her voice. 
 
 " My dear little Anna, you are so very young ! 
 There are such essential grades in an actress such 
 degrees. You, who have never before seen a play ** 
 She made a delicate movement with her shoulders. 
 " I, who have seen them by the score " She broke 
 her sentences with good effect. 
 
 Anna's bewildered eyes sought hers. 
 
 " But people cheered and stamped and clapped."" 
 
 " In the gallery people are forced to stamp to 
 rest their feet"
 
 THE CIRCLE 89 
 
 The bewildered look deepened in Anna's eyes. 
 
 " But she was real,"" she persisted ; " she was real. 
 Think of her when she stood up in the second act 
 with her hands stiff and her eyes cold. Oh, I think 
 you are unjust ! " 
 
 The other's eyelids drooped again. " But, my dear 
 child, how she tortured her words ! She gave the 
 lines like this 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was never so sweetly natural as in a 
 studied scene. She dropped her arms from the chair 
 with a perfectly impulsive jerk, and the droop of her 
 head, as she seemed to pause on her resolve, was 
 without a flaw ; later, when she moved across the 
 room, the swish of her skirts against the carpet 
 wajs the essence of spontaneous haste. By the nar- 
 row bookcase she paused with a touch of question. 
 Each of the tightly-packed books was bound in 
 white ; her fingers moved hesitatingly, consideringly, 
 over the upper tier; hovered above a volume that 
 stood slightly forward from the rest ; then, with 
 a delightful air of decision, fell on it and drew 
 it out. 
 
 Her head was bent, her fingers busy with the pages 
 as she recrossed the room. " Her reading of the 
 passage was something like this, Anna If I 
 am wrong, you will correct me ? " She looked up 
 with a brilliant smile. 
 
 Anna turned questioningly, but her companion's 
 gaze had returned to the book. 
 
 She took up her old position, but her attitude wa*
 
 90 THE CIRCLE 
 
 slightly changed ; she could now watch Anna's pro 
 file, clear cut against the glowing fire. She arranged 
 the book ; then very deliberately set herself to read 
 from the play. 
 
 She had a flexible voice, and she dropped it 
 to a dull monotone that touched and frayed the 
 nerves. At the fifth line she saw the girl's lips 
 twitch and her nostrils distend. She bent her head 
 with a little nod a just perceptible movement of 
 satisfaction and went steadily on. 
 
 For several seconds Anna sat rigid ; then she 
 moved uneasily in her chair, leant back, bent for- 
 ward, her susceptibilities throbbing like the pendu- 
 lum of a clock. 
 
 The monotonous voice went on on irritating, 
 persistent, seemingly endless. Anna felt a dampness 
 on her forehead. She lifted her hand and pushed 
 back her hair. Something within her was being 
 slowly wound up and up. The inner self the 
 self that had risen as from long darkness on the 
 night of Johann's rescue ; the unnamed power that 
 had ridden above her, giving her heart, giving her 
 capacity, giving her wings to soar. 
 
 She rose unevenly a great light on her face ; 
 and without a gesture of preparation swept the book 
 from the other's hand. 
 
 " You are cruel. Unjust and cruel ! What you 
 read is a lie. She spoke it this way " She threw 
 back her head with sure decision, and began slowly, 
 line by line.
 
 THE CIRCLE 91 
 
 For ten minutes the room seemed to hold its 
 breath. The words were the words of a fine play ; 
 at the matinee they had been spoken by a fine 
 actress ; but now, in the quiet of the firelight, from 
 the lips of a young, untaught girl, with an audience 
 of one, they had a meaning unpossessed before. The 
 spark that God sets in the few glowed in her voice 
 and shone in her eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's glance was over-bright, her face a 
 little pale, when Anna laid down the book ; her sure- 
 ness, her spontaneity seemed to have forsaken her, 
 as she crossed the room. 
 
 "You will be the greatest actress I have ever 
 known,"" she said ; and for the first time in her own 
 knowledge there was a quiver in her voice.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XIV 
 
 1 
 
 ^HROUGH the window of the little room 
 above the curio shop the sun no longer 
 shone ; the curtain was closely drawn, a 
 candle flickered in the coldness of the air 
 and cast shadows on the bare, washed walls. By 
 the old-fashioned chest of drawers stood Anna ; 
 her hat was on, one arm was still through the sleeve 
 of her coat, the other had been hastily drawn out ; 
 between her fingers she held an envelope, thick and 
 square in shape. She held it closely, and as she 
 moved nearer to the candle flame she twisted it 
 between her hands. On her face were mingled ex- 
 pressions excitement, hesitancy, speculation. 
 
 She twisted the envelope again ; and her mind, 
 with swift precision, reviewed the events that had 
 made it hers. 
 
 As in a shifting picture she saw herself once more 
 in the luxurious bedroom ; saw the white curtains, 
 through which the daylight filtered as through mist , 
 saw the long glasses that reflected her in every atti- 
 tude upon every hand ; the bed with its embroidered 
 sheets and silk coverlet ; then the picture stirred, 
 growing clearer and closer to her mental sight. A 
 fresh moment became discernible the moment
 
 THE CIRCLE 3S 
 
 when the great impulse had swept; her, dominating 
 her. making her its instrument, and she hod read 
 aloud unconscious of everything but the stirring 
 words. 
 
 As out of a long dream she heard again Mr*. 
 Maxtead's voice, short, convinced, unlike itaelf ; and 
 again in remembrance she felt her heart bound and 
 then stand still. She leant nearer to the light and 
 moved the envelope afresh. Her memories disin- 
 tegrated like portions of a film, then merged 
 together again. She saw Mrs. Maxtead pass over 
 the carpet and disappear into her dressing-room ; 
 she saw herself motionless, imheedful of the momenta,, 
 gazing into the fire. Then came her hostess'* return 
 after an indefinite lapse of time ; her very movement 
 and its sound came back to the girl ; she even lifted 
 her head as she had lifted it then and saw in imagi- 
 nation the curve of the trailing dress, the envelope in 
 the outstretched hand. This same envelope ! She 
 passed her finger-tips slowly over its smooth surface. 
 
 " My dear little Anna " Hie cold, clear words 
 seemed to cut the air again ; she saw herself turn in 
 response. " My dear little Anna, there are moments 
 in life when one is forced to hold up one's hands and 
 say Enough! We could talk till midnight, but 
 we would mar an effect that we could never repro- 
 duce. Now our effect shall not be marred. I am 
 going to be wise ; I am going to send you away m 
 time, 1 * Again Anna heard the low, peculiar laugh. 
 u But I am not sending you alone. Take this letter
 
 94 THE CIRCLE 
 
 and read it in your own room, with your door locked. 
 Then to-morrow come to me again. I shall wait in 
 all day." Anna looked down and smoothed the 
 envelope afresh. 
 
 On the roof opposite a cat wailed. The sound 
 roused her. She crossed to the window and drew 
 the curtain back. Then with a sudden impulse she 
 turned into the room and tore the envelope apart. 
 The first three lines she deciphered in semi-darkness ; 
 then she stepped to the candle and held the pages to 
 the light. Her fingers shook a little, and her throat 
 seemed tied with cords. 
 
 ** MY DEAU ANNA, This is not an essay, it is not a 
 letter; it is a question and the answer lies with you. 1 ' 
 
 Anna laid down the sheets and pushed back her 
 hair ; then she took a deep, agitated breath. 
 
 "To be candid is the privilege of the strong," 
 she read carefully. "It is only weakness that hangs 
 on the outskirts of a point. I will rob the point 
 even of its frills ; I will be blunt. 
 
 " On the first day that I saw you I felt that some- 
 where, on some plane of life, you were meant to 
 stand quite alone. In the mint of existence we 
 are all stamped; and your stamp is in your eyes, 
 in your voice, in the exasperatingly inimitable 
 something that marks you all over. 
 
 " That was a month ago, and I was prophetic ; 
 this is to-day, and I am justified. When I told 
 myaelf then that you had genius, I was original ;
 
 THE CIRCLE 95 
 
 when I repeat it now, I but anticipate the whole 
 world by a year or two. 
 
 " This may seem too big a sentence, too strong a 
 sentiment ; if it does, just pause. Lay dowm the 
 paper before you read another line and think think 
 hard. Shut your eyes and repeat slowly to your- 
 self, <r This is written by a woman of a woman.' 
 If that fails to convince you, I have no more to say."" 
 
 Anna paused and unconsciously obeyed. The can- 
 dle flame seemed to lengthen, then to shorten ; the 
 walls to contract, then to expand. She put up her 
 hand and tentatively touched her face; she was 
 doubtful even of herself. It was as if a great 
 clamour of music had beaten on her ears and then 
 passed by, leaving her deafened. Automatically she 
 lifted the letter to the light again. 
 
 u And now," it ran on, " as I have mauj my pro- 
 logue, let me come to facts ; let me range your 
 equipments and your drawbacks side by side. On 
 the one hand you have brain, you have good looks, 
 you have ambition though you haven^t discovered 
 it as yet ; on the other hand remember I am being 
 blunt on the other hand you have no education to 
 speak of, you have no position worth the name, you 
 possess not one influential friend. Left to yourself, 
 what future do you see ? Let me answer for you. 
 The saddest future on this profitable earth the 
 future of a thwarted career, of a discontented, wasted 
 life. Now where is the remedy, where is the loop- 
 hole? For even the pessimists sometimes admit that
 
 96 THE CIRCLE 
 
 we are each given one chance at least. My child, the 
 remedy lies with me! 11 
 
 For a second the pages fluttered in Anna's hand 
 and her eyes darkened ; then she recovered herself 
 and went steadily on. 
 
 " The remedy lies with me. I am your chance ! 
 To he poetic, there is a golden ladder waiting for 
 you, but you will need it to be steadied while you 
 climb. Well, you have seen my hands they are 
 unusually strong. 
 
 "Give yourself to me and there is nothing to 
 which you may not attain. Thanks to your nation- 
 ality, you already speak in French. You shall go to 
 France to Paris, from where so many stars have 
 shone. For five years you will work work work ; 
 for five years no one will see you, though it will be 
 my duty, when the time comes, to arrange that you?* 
 name is not unknown. When the five years are 
 passed, you will come into a world that is waiting 
 for you. Some day you will understand what that 
 means. 
 
 " You admire my house ; I have seen your admi- 
 ration in your eyes. My child, this house is a hovel 
 compared to what you can have by the lifting of 
 your hand. You can have jewels, you can have 
 dresses, you can have admiration without end 
 should admiration please you ; but through it all, 
 above it all, you will have your ambition to keep 
 you straight I feel my fro/en enthusiasm thaw 
 for "on. Long ago, when the world, and the
 
 THE CIRCLE 97 
 
 minds in the world, were very young, there were 
 fairies and magic wands. Nowadays the world 
 is old and there are no more fairies ; but the 
 magic wand still remains. It is no longer tan- 
 gible ; we call it by a different name ; but it 
 can still conjure. It can still turn enemies to 
 friends, corn to gold, pumpkins to carriages. It 
 is the little spark we term genius, the little spark 
 which we worship and envy and cringe to and 
 with which we light our own dull lives." 
 
 About Anna's throat the cords seemed to tighten, 
 to straim, then to snap. With a sob she dropped 
 the letter and covered her face. In tliat moment 
 it seemed to her that she was very near to God. 
 
 It was the numbness of her fingers at last that 
 brought her back to thought. With a start she 
 remembered that the letter was still to finish 
 that every dream, no matter how golden, has its 
 waking. Stiffly, almost reluctantly, she stretched 
 out her arm, collected the scattered sheets, smoothed 
 them and found her place. There was a space in 
 the letter where she herself had broken off a 
 space of blank paper; and with a touch of intui- 
 tion it seemed to her that she could see the writer 
 pause, laugh, move her fingers restlessly, then dip 
 her pen newly into the ink. 
 
 " How I have rhapsodised ! " The writing was 
 neater and more studied in this second beginning. 
 " It would seem, Anna, that you have imbued me 
 with some of your youth that never appreciated
 
 98 THE CIRCLE 
 
 gift that tarnishes so very soon. But I drift again ! 
 My child, you must pull me up. A woman of 
 thirty with sentiments ! How futile Let me 
 start afresh. 
 
 " All that I have offered you I can give and 
 more. Mentally I see your generosity leap up 
 as you read this; but that must not be. As I 
 have often told you, for everything I give it is 
 my policy to receive. I have my interest, like 
 the money-lender the pursuer of any trade. In 
 this case, believe me, I am all self. Heretofore I 
 have steered my little boat evenly through troubled 
 seas ; in the future I mean to rise on the very crest 
 of the wave with you. As for my conditions, they 
 are these : 
 
 " First, we enter into a ten years 1 bargain not a 
 legal bargain as yet, for you are not legally of age ; 
 but a bargain of honour. I see just how high 
 honour stands with you and I take the risk. For 
 the first five years I meet every expense ; for the 
 second five I take a percentage a large one, re- 
 member, upon all money that you make. If you 
 succeed, well there is the crest of the wave for us 
 both ; if you fail But there is no such word ! 
 
 "That is my first condition, my second is more 
 personal womanlike, I put it to the last. So 
 make a clear head and take your courage in both 
 hands, for you are facing your first problem." 
 
 Anna felt her fingers turn a little colder : other- 
 wise she remained unmoved.
 
 THE CIRCLE 99 
 
 " My child, when I say that I can claim experience 
 I scarcely think you will dispute the point. I do 
 claim experience. I have seen mistakes made ; I 
 have made my own mistakes ; and in your regard I 
 am determined I say it with all force I am deter- 
 mined that there shall be no false step. Now the 
 great artist, like the great ruler, must have no past. 
 It is essential. I have known it I have proved if 
 to be true. A future is one^s own ; a past is the 
 property of imbeciles and knaves. 
 
 " AVere I to speak to you face to face, to give you 
 my reasons, to raise you my arguments, I know that 
 by their very truth I must win you to my side ; but 
 this is a fight that, if possible if at all possible 
 I want you to wage for yourself. I make the propo- 
 sition ; it is for you I hope without prejudice or 
 persuasion to accept. 
 
 "To be concise, my meaning lies like this. If 
 you come to me, you come alone. You leave your 
 father and your home; you break your life volun- 
 tarily in two setting one half aside with things 
 that are done with and dead, giving the other half 
 to me to be born afresh. 
 
 " Perhaps I seem inexplicable I know that I 
 seem cruel ; in reality I am neither. I am merely a 
 woman who has fished for long in the pond of Pub- 
 licity, and who has studied the seasons and the 
 flies. 
 
 " My dear child, in your present life there is an 
 element for the moment we will call it an clement,
 
 100 THE CIRCLE 
 
 to-morrow I can be explicit if you desire an ele- 
 ment that has wrapped you in secrecy, an element 
 that brought you to me in the first instance upon a 
 mission of forgive me a very doubtful kind. 
 Now this element is your own, under the micro- 
 scope its particles might prove innocent enough ; 
 but there is the inevitable but is it the sand in 
 which to set the reporter, the interviewer, the busy- 
 body of five years hence, digging with his little 
 spade ? I have put the question to myself in fifty 
 forms, and the answer has unchangingly been ' No.' 
 
 " No. You are going to be too great ; you are 
 going to set your tent too fully in the daylight. 
 There must be no loophole for petty spite. 
 
 "Put the past away from you Every woman 
 learns the word ' sacrifice ' at some period of her life ; 
 be thankful to learn it now. Tears flow easily and 
 dry easily at sixteen. For the rest, I have taxed 
 your thoughts enough ; if I have overtaxed them I 
 can only plead my cause. Come to me to-morrow 
 at any time ; no one has ever been more looked for 
 than you will be. JEANNE M AXTEAD." 
 
 There was a dull pause. Anna folded the letter, 
 refolded it slowly ; then, with a swift movement, 
 blew out the light.
 
 PAET ONE CHAPTER XV 
 
 REACTION falls upon some natures like 
 an enveloping cloud, wrapping them in a 
 stupor of calm. 
 When Anna left her room and de- 
 scended the crooked staircase, her manner and her 
 step were subdued. She walked to the door of the 
 parlour and stood looking in. In the room the fire 
 burnt brilliantly, but the lamp was lowered ; in the 
 conflicting lights Johann moved softly, laying the 
 supper-table. 
 
 Her eyes wandered slowly round, vaguely noting 
 the sameness of the furniture, the unaltered position 
 of the books. Then, by one of those freaks of 
 chance those lights and shades of circumstances 
 upon which human endeavour so often hangs her 
 vision narrowed to Johann and his task. 
 
 She stood by the lintel of the door with inert 
 hands and eyes half shut seeing and yet not see- 
 ing ; then suddenly she stirred, lifted her hand and 
 let it drop again, as a thought pierced her mind. It 
 stung her with the force of pain, scattering her calm. 
 For weeks her place was being gently and unobtru- 
 sively filled. She lifted her hand again. One by 
 one, grade by grade, the irksome tasks had been
 
 102 THE CIRCLE 
 
 lifted from her shoulders to another's, while she 
 stood passively by. The knowledge was clear-cut 
 and unerring ; for the second time she let her hand 
 fall 
 
 She crossed the room and raised the wick of the 
 lamp ; then she passed to the fire and crouched 
 before it, spreading her fingers to the blaze. The 
 wheel of her ideas had ceased to turn. The click of 
 china behind her, the soft motion of Johann's feet 
 pausing here, halting there absorbed her con- 
 sciousness; beyond him her thoughts would not 
 stray. The knowledge that his eyes were fixed 
 on her was so sharp, the certainty that his lips 
 trembled and yet dreaded to speak was so absolute, 
 that it held her still. At last with an effo:': she 
 broke the spell. 
 
 " Johann, where did these logs come from ? * She 
 nodded towards a pile of wood, stacked to dry in the 
 warmth of the fire. 
 
 The click of china ceased. In imagination she saw 
 Johann's lips fall apart, in the eager, half-reluctant 
 action that always preceded speech. And hot upon 
 the fancy came another thought ; the thought of a 
 life in which Johannes lips and Johannes words and 
 all that pertained to them would be a memory 
 lapsing, losing detail with every year. The thought 
 frightened her. She raised her voice. 
 
 " Johann, where did they come from these 
 logs?" 
 
 He made a deprecating sound. " You have often
 
 THE CIRCLE 103 
 
 said how fine the wood fires are. A ship with timber 
 came in to-day ; I heard of it and I remembered. 
 It was very simple." He stopped. 
 
 Anna stiffened her hands. 
 
 " And you carried the wood home ? " 
 
 " Of course. It was very simple."" 
 
 There was a wait. A burning coal dropped with 
 a little crash. Anna raised her head. 
 
 " The stairs were cleaned to-day ; I saw a& I came 
 in. Who cleaned them ? " 
 
 " I cleaned them." 
 
 A groan rose to Anna's lips, but did not escape. 
 She looked before her at the crackling fire. 
 
 " Johann ! " 
 
 "Yes, Anna." 
 
 It was the old formula. The question sharp and 
 decisive ; the answer ready, anticipating, hungering 
 to comply. 
 
 "Johann, you have done the work of the whole 
 house while I have been away. When will you do 
 your own work, all the tedious work that father sets 
 you?* 
 
 Johann was silent and embarrassed. 
 
 " Johann, when ? " 
 
 " I shall find time." 
 
 She changed her position. Dropping to tte edge 
 of the fender, she turned round. "Johann, you 
 mean that you will sit up half the night that you 
 slave that you do your own work and mine as well, 
 while I stand by and do nothing nothing at all."
 
 104 THE CIRCLE 
 
 The words dropped separately, incontestably ; for 
 the first time in weeks, facts, naked and cold, stood 
 shivering in the light. She saw Johann and she saw 
 herself. Suddenly she rose. 
 
 " Johann," her eyes were direct, her hands were 
 clasped behind her, "Johann, why do you do all 
 this for me?" 
 
 There was an acute silence ; then a cup slipped 
 from Johann's hand. He stooped and fumbled on 
 the floor. Something within him was leaping in 
 answer to her words ; somewhere in his inner con- 
 sciousness a voice was crying, " Now ! Now ! " It 
 echoed through him, it reeled in his brain. He 
 lifted himself laboriously to one knee. His pulses 
 vrere bounding. The gates of life seemed ajar, need- 
 ing but a touch. 
 
 " Johann, tell the truth. 1 * 
 
 The voice sent the blood to his forehead; he 
 caught the table and drew himself slowly up, then he 
 tuined .to her. His' face was .in shadow, hers was in 
 the fu41 light. The 'arrangement was prophetic. It 
 struck him with a chill. He steadied himself and 
 felt the tide of blood recede. 
 
 " Anna "* he began, then paused. She stood un- 
 consciously typifying Fate. The red crown of her 
 hair, the darkness of her eyes each was symbolic. 
 
 He drew a long breath, such a breat^j as he had 
 drawn on the first night, at his first sight of her. 
 
 "Johann," she said again, "why do you do 
 it?"
 
 THE CIRCLE 105 
 
 There was a space of indecision, a moment fraught 
 * fth hesitancy ; then he spoke, his face still averted. 
 
 " Why does one serve God ? " 
 
 Anna stirred, laying her fingers on his arm. A 
 faint shiver passed through him, but he did not 
 move. 
 
 " Some serve God for payment. That is not what 
 you mean?" 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 " Johann ! " She jerked his sleeve. 
 
 Suddenly and awkwardly he turned ; his eyes were 
 full of pain. " No," he said, " that is not what I 
 mean. There is another service, Anna, beside that." 
 He steadied himself. " There is a service that gives 
 and gives because it must.'" He thrust out his 
 hand and caught hers. " A service of the heart, not 
 of the head. A service where the heart must 
 give, must give or must break His fingers 
 tightened, his eyes burned. Involuntarily she drew 
 back. 
 
 " And that service, Johaun what is it called ? " 
 
 He leant forward ; the word trembled on his 
 tongue, hung on the air, then died out unspoken. 
 With a hopeless gesture he let her hand fall. 
 
 But her eyes still questioned. 
 
 " In saying God, Johann, do you mean me ? " A 
 sense of awe mingled in the words ; the breath of 
 something deep and intangible brushed her ; the 
 shadow of life fell on her in an impenetrable cloud. 
 " Johann, you mean " She paled uncertainly.
 
 106 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Quite steadily he returned her glance. The glow 
 had gone from his face as the light from a quenched 
 candle. " Yes, that is what I mean. You saved me 
 you are God to me."" 
 
 " And if one lost God ? " Her words were low 
 and indistinct. " Johann, if one lost God ? " 
 
 He raised his shoulders automatically, and again 
 thrust out his hands, but without touching hers, 
 " I have said. With loss the heart breaks." He 
 caught up a piece of bread and bending it between 
 his fingers broke it in two ; then he crossed to the 
 fire and dropped the pieces into the blaze. 
 
 Anna stood by the table. She was perfectly silent, 
 perfectly still ; she was fighting inch by inch. No 
 one who glanced at her eyes could have seen the 
 tumult behind them ; no one who watched her first 
 forward movement could have guessed that with it a 
 castle toppled summarily from the skies. The battle 
 was vital, absorbed, intense. At last reluctantly, 
 step by step, she crossed the room. 
 
 " Johann,"" she said. 
 
 He sprang towards her. 
 
 " Johann, you said once ' I trust you ! * Will you 
 say it again now to please me ? " 
 
 With a sharp movement he caught her hand. 
 " Ah, more than myself. For always, Anna for 
 always ! " 
 
 For a moment she looked down at his bent head ; 
 then the warmth of his generosity shook her, flowed 
 with a rush across her heart. Her tears rose,
 
 THE CIRCLE 107 
 
 ring her sight ; her perplexity and her doubt met and 
 broke in a sob. 
 
 " Oh, Johann ! " she cried with childish abandon- 
 ment. " Johann ! Johann ! " 
 
 And up from the depths of remembrance, clear 
 and far as a bell among the mountains, mocking and 
 distinct as an echo, came the ghost of a sentence. 
 
 "Tears flow easily and dry easily at sixteen !" 
 
 With a little gasp her sobbing ceased.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MRS. M AXTEAD blotted the letter that 
 she was writing and laid it on the top 
 of her desk. Then she pushed back 
 her chair. 
 
 For two minutes she had been conscious that Anna 
 was standing in the doorway ; for quite one minute 
 she had been aware that her own pulses were moving 
 at a quickened rate ; but appearances were of primary 
 account. She was careful first to blot the letter, 
 afterwards to turn round. 
 
 Her unmoved expression as she greeted the girl 
 did her credit. Anna, at a first glance, was dis- 
 concerting. Her figure was limp, her face marred 
 by sleeplessness and tears. 
 
 Like the organiser of a campaign, Mrs. Maxtead 
 summed up the situation. She bracketed the state 
 of affairs and her own plan of action ; then she went 
 forward with both hands silently held dit. 
 
 Anna stood motionless for a second ; then suddenly 
 walked past her into the room, pausing by the bed. 
 
 " I only came for a minute,"" she said. " I did n't 
 want to come at all but it seemed right. The 
 letter is no good ! No good ! I have thought 
 it out and I can't doit I can't!" Her voice
 
 THE CIRCLE 109 
 
 jerked, her sentences did not join. Mrs. Maxtead*9 
 eyelids drooped a shade. 
 
 " The word * cannot ' is so tentative," she said at 
 last softly. " However we disguise it, it is always 
 tentative. It was invented so." She moved towards 
 the bed, her figure fragile against the whitened 
 light, a fragility in contrast to the expression of 
 her mouth. 
 
 " Dear little girl ! " With a caressing touch she 
 laid her fingers on Annans coat and opened the top 
 button. " Dear little girl ! " The second button 
 came undone. 
 
 Anna moved impatiently. 
 
 " It ""s no good ! You must n't. It only hurts.** 
 
 The sky outside was leaden ; great raindrops fell 
 at intervals, each with a little splash. Mrs. Maxtead 
 walked to the window and half drew the curtains ; 
 then she stepped to the fire and stirred it to a blaze. 
 Long tongues of flame shot up, casting lines of 
 brightness ; she watched them interestedly as she 
 dropped into a chair. 
 
 ** Anna," she said deliberately, " I wrote you a 
 [whole sermon. Surely you will cry quits ? Proposals 
 like mine are not disposed of in six or seven words ; 
 people like me are not disposed of in six or seven 
 words." 
 
 Anna looked round. 
 
 tt I I think I 'd like to go,** she said. 
 
 " Why ? n The word was intensely fine, incredi- 
 bly sharp.
 
 110 THE CIRCLE 
 
 "Because "" Anna's strength deserted her. 
 " Because my mind is made up, you know fixed. 
 Because " She twisted her fingers. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead sat very still. 
 
 " Anna come here."" 
 
 Anna moved reluctantly forward. 
 
 "Sit down ! It tires me to see people stand. 11 
 
 Still reluctantly Anna drew forward a chair and 
 obeyed. She trembled to shake off the fascination 
 that was holding her, to stand up and go ; but she 
 lacked the courage of the act. She sat mute and 
 miserable. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's voice broke in again low, silky, 
 reasonable. 
 
 " How long is it since you first came here ? " 
 
 " Nine weeks. 11 
 
 " In those nine weeks you have seen more than 
 you ever saw learnt more understood more ? " 
 
 Anna nodded. 
 
 " And this is not meanness, it is necessity ; I 
 want to force a point. In those nine weeks you 
 have been given, constantly given; you have never 
 once been asked to give. Is that not so ? " 
 
 Anna flushed deeply. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she asked after a pause. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead smiled. " That is right ! Life 
 should never be made harder than it is. For the 
 moment, I want the small gift of your confidence. 11 
 
 The flush died slowly out of Annans face. She 
 rose.
 
 THE CIRCLE ill 
 
 The other held out her hand. " Sit down again ; 
 it is not so very terrible. A question or two 
 that is all."" She leant forward, her face impassive, 
 her lashes lowered. It was a bad omen for an oppo- 
 nent when she hid her eyes. Her voice had never 
 been more smooth than when she spoke again. 
 
 " It is not for yourself, Anna, that you refuse this 
 offer?" 
 
 " No." Anna's tone was uneven and dragged. 
 
 The other waited. Her next question came in a 
 change of key. 
 
 " Your father is eccentric. You have often said 
 that he scarcely knows that you exist. Am I right 
 in that ? " 
 
 Anna took a deep breath. For the first time the 
 warmth and scent of the room seemed to suffocate. 
 She made a great effort. 
 
 " Yes, you are right." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's eye remained upon the fire. 
 
 "And you can tell me, candidly tell me, that 
 it is for a man who ignores you, that you 
 refuse ? " The voice was metallic ; it scattered 
 Anna's caution. 
 
 " No," she said hurriedly ; " it is not it is not 
 for him." 
 
 " Ah ! " Mrs. Maxtead stirred ever so little. 
 " Then it is for the Austrian the man who stole 
 my jewels ? " 
 
 Anna's chair made a dull rasp as she pushed it 
 back. She rose ; took a step forward, a step back ;
 
 112 ?H1. CIRCLE 
 
 then, with a loss of vitality, sank into her seat again. 
 Long ago the story of Judas had fascinated her from 
 John Desinskrs lips. The vision of the silver pieces 
 seemed to rise now and float before her mind. 
 I:i an agony of self-accusation she clasped her 
 .hands. 
 
 " When did I say it ? " she said slowly. " How 
 did I say it ? " She leant forward in her chair. 
 
 From her place by the h're Mrs. Maxtead laughed. 
 " How great you would be in tragedy," she said. 
 41 But you need not accuse yourself; my knowledge 
 hasn't come from you. It is an event in a sequence 
 of events nothing more." She leant back and 
 closed her eyes. Her face was perfectly alert, peiv 
 fectly serene ; the face of a woman who appreciates 
 the moment to its minutest point. 
 
 " You see, when a child like you starts a game of 
 consequences with me, the handicap is too great ; 
 the result is too clear. On the first day that you 
 came here I had you followed. Since then I have 
 seen you constantly with other people's eyes ; have 
 wound the whole skein of your circumstances thread 
 by thread. Now, what have you to say?" Like a 
 flash she turned the brightness of her eye upon the 
 girl. " What have you to say ? " 
 
 Anna looked up. Her lips were set. 
 
 "I suppose I am like a mouse in a trap," she 
 said. 
 
 " Rather descriptive ! But the trap has yet to 
 shut. Is it to be war between us ? "
 
 THE CIRCLE 113 
 
 " I don't understand." 
 
 "Then I shall explain. It is like this " She 
 rose and crossed to the girl's side. " You have a 
 possession that I have waited all my life to handle. 
 I am not crueller, not more self-seeking, not more 
 unscrupulous than nineteen out of every twenty 
 human beings ; I have the courage of my egotism, 
 that is all. You have put this thing within 
 my grasp ; and now that I have all but closed 
 my fingers on it. you pull it back and you 
 say ' No.' Now as strongly as you say ' No, 1 I 
 say * Yes. 1 I will have it ; my desire is fixed 
 on it." Her voice, cold and smooth, never rose ; 
 she made no effective gestures; only her eyes in- 
 exorably compelled the girl's gaze. " Yesterday I 
 pleaded with you, Anna ; to-day I do not plead 
 I demand."" 
 
 Anna rose. From the chaos round her one object 
 disentangled itself Johannes face, pitiful, trusting, 
 eloquent in appeal. 
 
 " It 's no good, it makes no difference." 
 
 " Will you tell me precisely why ? " 
 
 In her agitation, Anna walked to the dressing- 
 table and touched the silver brushes. " You have 
 found out my secret," she said unevenly ; " if I 
 tell you another it will scarcely count. First, I 
 refused to come because I would hurt somebody 
 else ; now I refuse because I hate you ! " She 
 turned round. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead passed her hand over her hair. A
 
 114 THE CIRCLE 
 
 very faint flush touched her cheek, then died away. 
 " In five years," she said, " we will both remember 
 this and laugh. I am glad I have my temper in 
 good control." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "And this Austrian is his honesty really as 
 brittle as his heart? 11 
 
 Anna bit her lip. 
 
 " Did he make you his confidante in the jewel 
 affair ? " 
 
 "I am his only friend." 
 
 " A dangerous position ! " 
 
 Anna was silent. 
 
 " And his only interest in life as well as his 
 only friend ? " 
 
 " Yes. 11 At the root of Anna's voice there was a 
 misgiving ; she crushed it down. 
 
 " Does he never refer to the jewels now ? w 
 
 " No ; he never refers." 
 
 " Because his innocence is so well proved ? w 
 
 " Oh, you are very cruel ! " 
 
 " He would court a trial, you think ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. I don't know ! I don't know ! " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead smiled. " Anna, there is some- 
 thing here " She thoughtfully crossed the room. 
 " Something for you to read." She stopped by the 
 desk and her hand hovered above it. " Sometimes 
 sidelights are very illuminating." She searched, and 
 drew out a letter. It was written in careful English 
 in a fine, foreign hand.
 
 THE CIRCLE 115 
 
 ")usx glance through it."" She waved the sheets 
 and they rustled a little against the air. 
 
 Mechanically Anna stretched out her arm. A 
 great fear, a great shadow seemed lurching towards 
 her. She opened the letter cautiously, as if conta- 
 gion lurked between the lines. 
 
 "The whole letter?" 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked up. " Not quite the whole 
 letter ; say from the third page." 
 
 Anna found the place. 
 
 " In the matter of the jewels, my dear friend," the 
 writing ran, " I commend your philosophy ! For 
 myself, I can claim no such calm. In one direction 
 at least, my fingers itch." 
 
 " Who wrote this ? " Anna's tone was sharp ; then 
 without waiting for an answer she read on again. 
 
 " My fingers itch after my lost messenger, whom 
 your whirlpool of London seems to have caught in 
 its eddy. But as yet I do not repine ; such carrion 
 rise to the surface if one has the patience to wait. 
 When the time arrives I promise you I shall possess 
 myself to the value of the stones. I shall urge 
 the prosecution to its limits and the limits should 
 be wide. The fellow is either imbecile or a villain ; 
 in one case or in the other he will obtain his 
 deserts. As my pen inscribes this, I think I see 
 you smile ! " 
 
 Anna laid down the letter and glanced up. She 
 would not admit the thought that was knocking at 
 her heart ; but against her will her eyes mirrored it.
 
 116 THE CIRCLE 
 
 "This is Golstock ?" she said. 
 
 ** That is Golstock." 
 
 Her lips opened stiffly. Mrs. Maxtead read their 
 question and made a motion with her hand. 
 
 " In that letter, " she said, " you have the whole 
 man. It is an interesting letter. The loss of the 
 stones he accepts he shrugs his shoulders at ; but 
 the fact of being duped he does not accept. That 
 rankles like a pebble in a wound. But, my dear 
 little girl, we fence ! We have fenced all along."" 
 The quizzical tone died out of her voice ; she 
 ceased to guard her eyes. She was keen, direct, 
 set to her point. 
 
 Instinctively Anna straightened herself. 
 
 " My dear child, let me put things to you as they 
 are. Let the issue be plain."" 
 
 Anna moved inconsequently to the desk and 
 picked up a paper-knife. 
 
 " I have never seen this Austrian you know 
 that. But I have made a picture of him through 
 you through Golstock through my maid Ce- 
 leste. I know him as if I had met him a hundred 
 times. In many points he is like a dog ; and like a 
 maimed dog he has appealed to you. He is gentle, 
 faithful, trusting trusting above all things ; but 
 he lacks one trait that the dog possesses. He is a 
 coward ! " 
 
 Anna caught her breath. 
 
 " Yes, he is a coward ! You say that if he lost 
 you his heart would break. Now that works two
 
 THE CIRCLE ill 
 
 ways. The man who breaks his heart in one instance 
 may cut his throat in another ! " 
 
 The knife fell from Anna's hand to the desk. 
 Shakingly she picked it up. Her face was colourless 
 as she turned round. " I don't understand," she 
 said. " I don't understand." 
 
 " Are you quite sure that you don't understand?,* 
 
 She was silent, 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved slowly towards her. 
 
 44 Are you quite sure ? " 
 
 A wild expression swept over the girl's eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead came nearer by a step. With her, 
 excitement was a white heat, nearer to frost than fire. 
 
 "It is because you do understand that you are 
 silent. Before a great fear speech overflows; be- 
 fore a great fact it shrinks away. Now in -this 
 affair there are three factors : Golstock, waiting like 
 a hungry spider ; I, reacty with a turn of my wrist to 
 twitch the fly into his web ; you, midway between 
 us, holding the reins of Destiny." She laughed 
 gently between her words. "Which is to come 
 ^uppermost ? Spider or fly ? " 
 
 Anna moved across the room. ** You could n't ? n 
 
 K 
 
 she said. 
 
 Her tormentor ceased to laugh. ** My dear child, 
 since I was nine years old I have rated myself first. 
 In a crisis habit always counts. I 'd face facts, if I 
 were you." 
 
 Anna moved on till the door was reached. At 
 the door she turned, leaning her shoulder against it.
 
 118 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " You don't think that Johann stole the stones ? " 
 
 " Candidly, I do not." 
 
 " Then you think ?" 
 
 " That his presence his existence hinders me ; 
 beyond that I do not think. If he goes to his pun- 
 ishment it will be you who sent him there. My 
 conscience will be clear." 
 
 " You are cruel ! " 
 
 " I am human. You are looking at the present 
 moment; I am looking five years ahead. One day 
 you will thank me for my long sight. Go home, 
 and face things. Question yourself, question Johann ; 
 if you find him ready to meet Golstock " she 
 lengthened her words " ready to face the evi- 
 dence of the clasp brought back by you as resti- 
 tution ; the evidence of his life in hiding, then 
 well and good ! You cannot do better than sit down 
 in your curio shop and wait. But if if, on the 
 other hand, he is not so ready to take the risk ; if 
 the loss of you in a secure refuge seems more endurable 
 than the loss of you in a prison, then " she let the 
 sentence fall and caught it up again, urgency and 
 speed tipping the words " then, make your fare- 
 wells to-night and come to me in the morning ; I 
 shall give you until ten. Sudden decisions forced 
 decisions hold the best." 
 
 Anna's shoulder pressed heavily against the panel 
 of the door. 
 
 " And if I if I were to come " The words 
 were faint, reluctant. " If I were to come 
 Johann would be safe?"
 
 THE CIRCLE 119 
 
 " My dear, am I Golstock's bloodhound ? " 
 
 Anna turned the handle of the door, moved for- 
 ward, then, on the threshold, turned back. 
 
 " How hard you are ! " she said. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laughed. "It is like a doctor 
 operating on a child. The knife hurts ; the child 
 screams ; but the doctor can afford to smile." 
 Calmly picking up Golstock's letter from the floor, 
 she folded it. 
 
 In the doorway Anna still stood irresolute. 
 
 "I I I hate you ! " she said suddenly. "I ' 
 I hate you ! " And she fled downstairs.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XV11 
 
 LD Solny sat by the parlour fire, im- 
 mersed in a book. When Anna entered 
 the room, he raised his eyes absently, 
 
 shifted his position, then dropped his 
 gaze again. 
 
 She came in hurriedly. Her first glance was at 
 the Dutch clock. The hands marked eight. Her 
 conscience stung her, and she looked towards the 
 table; but the supper of an hour ago had been 
 removed. In place of the after fragments, the 
 crumbs, the soiled plates, a clean cloth met her 
 glance ; a solitary cup and saucer, a solitary 1 " knife 
 and fork, newly polished in expectation of her com- 
 ing. Her eyes strayed from the table to the fire ; 
 with a dull sinking of the heart she saw the kettle 
 ready placed. She turned to her father. 
 
 u Where is Johann ? ** she said. 
 
 Solny took the number of his page, then closed 
 the book. " Johann ! " he repeated vaguely ; then 
 he collected himself. "Johann has gone for hi 
 walk." He opened the book again. 
 
 Anna moved towards the table. There was a hor- 
 rible conclusi veness in the words ; they seemed a last 
 spur, were a last spur needed ; the comprehensive
 
 THE CIRCLE 121 
 
 proof, suggesting everything, covering everything. 
 The picture was complete in its clearness. The fugi- 
 tive who feared the open day ; the man who crept 
 for exercise in the shadow of the wall, under cloak 
 of the night. She opened her coat, button by but- 
 ton ; then pulled it off suddenly and threw it on a 
 chair. 
 
 She was splashed with mud ; her boots were 
 soaked ; she had walked for hours without hanger 
 or fatigue. But Nature was lying in wait for her. 
 On the table were cheese and butter and freshly- 
 baked bread. With a childish reluctance her eyes 
 travelled back and rested upon them ; then her nos- 
 trils distended, and moving to the table she caught 
 up a knife. 
 
 For five minutes she ate hungrily and in silence ; 
 then she pushed her plate away. 
 
 With food events loomed clearer; her position faced 
 her without thought on her part. She sat down 
 and rested her elbows on the table, supporting her 
 face between her hands. Once her lips parted, but 
 she restrained the words. Once she glanced at her 
 father, but her face dropped back to its former atti- 
 tude ; his head was bent above his book. 
 
 At last, with a swerving motion, she pushed back 
 her chair and walked to the farther end of the room. 
 At the farther end were packing-cases some 
 empty, others half full. She looked down upon 
 them silently; then turned and retraced her -step*. 
 With her hand on the table she paused.
 
 122 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Father " she said unsteadily. 
 
 Old Solny did not hear. 
 
 She drew in her breath and crossed agitatedly to 
 the window ; kneeling on the window-sill, she looked 
 out. 
 
 The blurred panes gave on the little yard. With 
 attentive listening she could hear the reluctant rain- 
 drops falling on the buckets and zinc cans ; with a 
 stretch of imagination she could see the grass blades 
 between the cobbles, that in summer time, seen 
 through the imperfect glass, spread and elongated to 
 prairie greenness. The idea blew across her with a 
 breath of past things. She saw herself a baby with 
 big eyes and pale face, little hands clasped, little 
 cheeks pressed against the glass, lost in wonder at 
 the sight. How long ago it seemed ! 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 How long ago! How much farther, how much 
 longer would it seem? She tightened her hands 
 one above the other, and pressed her hot face against 
 the pane. One tear two splashed down in slow 
 accompaniment to the rain ; with a swift impulse 
 she moved till her lips touched the glass. Then she 
 turned and her feet came sharply to the ground. 
 
 " Father ! " she said again. 
 
 Solny moved without turning round. " Yes, my 
 child." 
 
 Perhaps it was the moment, perhaps the unwonted 
 tenderness of the words, but her heart swelled : a 
 sob rose to her throat and was driven back.
 
 THE CIRCLE 123 
 
 "Father " Her head felt very light. She 
 walked slowly round the room, pausing at each 
 point, halting finally behind his chair. " Father * 
 
 Curiosity held no place in Solny. He stared 
 straight before him at the fire. 
 
 " Father, there is a question I want to ask." 
 
 "Well, my child?" The tone was gentle and 
 vague. 
 
 "Father, which is easier to mend a broken 
 heart or a cut throat ? " Her breath seemed to 
 catch and break. 
 
 There was a pause. Her eyes were turned nervously 
 on the door that led into the shop ; to her strained 
 ears the clock ticked with incredible loudness. 
 
 " Father ? " she urged. 
 
 He lifted his head and answered as from a dream. 
 
 " There is no mending, my child, for either ; they 
 differ, that is all." 
 
 Anna's fingers were steel against his arm. " And 
 the difference the difference ? " 
 
 His head drooped. 
 
 " One makes life so long," he said, " that a man 
 dare not look ahead ; the other makes life so short 
 that he dare not look behind." He still spoke as 
 from a dream. 
 
 Anna's fingers relaxed, his arm dropped ; she 
 stood for a moment with shoulders stiff as his own. 
 Then she extended her fingers, moving them slowly 
 downward, till they touched his hand. 
 
 " Good-night, father," she said.
 
 124 CHE CIRCLE 
 
 " Good-night, my child. Sleep well ! " He took 
 up his book. 
 
 She hesitated, waited, then drew away. Heavily 
 she picked up her coat and crossed the room. At 
 the door she stopped. 
 
 "Father " she said. "Father Good-night!" 
 
 But the words did not reach. Soluy settled his 
 glasses, leant back in his chair, and shifted the 
 position of his book.
 
 PART ONE CHAPTER XV III 
 
 1 
 
 night Anna prayed carefully; but 
 she knelt on the bare boards by the win- 
 dow where her eyes, resolutely wide open, 
 could catch no glint of the carpet strip 
 beside the bed. 
 
 Rising from her knees, she blew out the candle 
 and undressed in the dark. Once between the sheets 
 she slept, the heavy sleep of a mind and body worn 
 out ;.. though her eyelashes were wet and her breath, 
 for many minutes, came long-drawn with the shudder 
 of an underlying sob. 
 
 On waking the next morning she lay with closed 
 eyes till the shock of recollection ran through her to 
 her finger-tips, and she sprang out of bed. 
 
 In an instant she was by the window ; the curtain 
 was thrust back ; and her glance, still dazed with 
 sleep, was falling on the sky, on the murky roofs, on 
 the first damp greyness of the day. 
 
 She shivered and rubbed her eyes; then silently 
 crept to the door and listened. The house was still ; 
 her own breath, coming unevenly, was the only inti- 
 mation of life. She turned back into the room and 
 stood for a moment petrified by the isolation. Then 
 from downstairs, harshly and stridently, the Dutch
 
 126 THE CIRCLE 
 
 clock struck six. She counted the strokes fearfully ; 
 as the last died out she stirred and looked down at 
 her bare feet. 
 
 Her clothes lay within a yard of her. They lay 
 precisely as they had lain morning after morning 
 since first she had learnt to dress herself. Slowly 
 she stretched out her fingers and felt them one by 
 one; there was something ghostly and unreal in 
 their touch. She shivered, drew a garment towards 
 her, and mechanically began to dress. 
 
 The dressing was a slow affair. Her hands fumbled 
 over buttons and halted at the tying of knots. She 
 moved awkwardly, as if impelled by a force not quite 
 her own. Even the shock of the cold water as she 
 washed left her still benumbed. 
 
 Sitting on the edge of her bed, she combed and 
 plaited her hair ; then she rose, and lifting her hat 
 from its peg, put it on. Her coat, still damp from 
 last night's rain, was thrown across a chair ; she took 
 it up slowly, shook it and forced her arms through 
 the tight sleeves. Then very silently she straight- 
 ened herself and turned about ready, save for her 
 boots. 
 
 With the same slowness of motion, she took a step 
 forward and placed her hands on the foot-rail of the 
 bed, letting her gaze run furtively along the wall. 
 
 In the struggling light John Desinski's childish 
 portrait of her stared at her with its questioning eyes. 
 Dimly she could follow the tangle of the red hair, 
 the soft outline of the face. She remembered the
 
 THE CIRCLE 127 
 
 day of its painting. How gay he had been ! How 
 amusing ! What stories he had told to keep her still ! 
 
 Her eyes stared back into the pictured eyes, and a 
 void seemed suddenly to stretch before her. She 
 shivered again, but her hands tightened on the rail 
 and her eyes moved in their survey, travelling from 
 one poor ornament to another with deliberate care. 
 Then for a moment her lids drooped. 
 
 Until now she had guarded her glance ; but now 
 with a firm movement she raised her body, leant over 
 the rail, and let her eyes rest long and steadily on 
 the carpet beside the bed. It was the crucial test. 
 In the glimmering light the blue and orange stood 
 out with sharp distinctness ; the pattern seemed cut 
 as with a knife. She looked in perfect silence, as she 
 might have looked on an unconscious animaL Her 
 eyes smarted, her throat swelled. Then suddenly 
 she dropped to the ground, picked up her boots, and 
 carrying them in her hand, walked steadfastly to the 
 door. 
 
 The door-handle turned with a creak that brought 
 her heart to her lips; but she stepped across the 
 landing. At the top of the stairs she paused, but 
 the pause was momentary. At the third step she 
 stopped and leant against the wall; the smarting 
 behind her eyes had become a burning pain, an ache 
 of parting no longer to be denied. Her whole form 
 swayed backward with her impulse, but she caught 
 herself in the nick of time. With a stealthy rush 
 she began to descend the stairs.
 
 128 THE CIRCLE 
 
 At each crack and strain of the worn-out steps 
 her breath caught ; at each succeeding silence it was 
 let go again. 
 
 From the attic Johann could hear nothing. Her 
 father slept like the dead. She reiterated the knowl- 
 edge silently again and again. Then at last the foot 
 of the stairs was reached. There she stopped. 
 
 From the thought of the shop -door, with its bar 
 and its cumbersome hinges, her mind drew back ; 
 instinctively it turned to the kitchen and the yard 
 with their narrow entrance into the Passage ; and 
 almost without volition her decision was made. 
 
 Downstairs, the ticking of the clock filled all the 
 spaces. The kitchen with its raked-out fire possessed 
 a human loneliness. Its bare grey windows had the 
 look of eyes ; its familiar objects the sense of out- 
 stretched hands. She crept through hastily the 
 great eyes seemed to pierce her soul. The door into 
 the yard was easy of management ; the key turned 
 smoothly, the latch lifted with scarcely a click, and 
 the raw air poured through the aperture with a 
 rush. 
 
 She stepped hastily out and drew the door behind 
 her. Then she sat down upon the doorstep and 
 pulled on her boots. 
 
 With the chill of the day the wave of her resolu- 
 tion receded, leaving a dull fear. A dazed, over- 
 whelming loneliness seemed to lift from the enfolding 
 gloom ; her fingers fumbled with the boot-laces ; her 
 head drooped. Then suddenly she rose.
 
 THE CIRCLE 129 
 
 " I cannot ! Oh, I cannot ! " The words rushed 
 out, inarticulate and vague. She laid her hand 
 against the mouldering plaster of the house ; but the 
 crevices seemed to whisper back, echoing her words ; 
 the heavy shadows to combine and push her forth. 
 She gripped the wall, but the plaster and the mould 
 peeled off between the fingers in green strips. 
 
 In sudden panic she turned and raised the latch. 
 Heedless of her boots upon the tiles, she re-crossed 
 the kitchen floor. The dream that had wrapped her 
 since her sleeping had dissolved. She was awake. 
 
 From the kitchen she passed into the parlour ; 
 there, too, were the staring windows and the raked- 
 out fire. It was like walking through a house of 
 death- The longing to call, to raise her voice till 
 the whole house answered, filled her ; but she gripped 
 her hands and set her lips. 
 
 She walked across the room and laid her finger on 
 the farther door ; very gently she pushed it forward 
 and the sparse light from the parlour window fell 
 into the shop. 
 
 It fell on the counter, worn shiny by many hands ; 
 on the cobwebs, festooning the ceiling like dusty 
 banners ; on the ancient firearms and rusty swords. 
 
 She stared, holding her breath. She had never 
 loved these things, but they had been her life ; they 
 had meant existence. She moved forward step by 
 step. 
 
 For days months years to come they would 
 remain unchanged. Morning after morning the
 
 130 THE CIRCLE 
 
 shutters would be taken down ; morning after morn- 
 ing the dazzling daylight would pour in, like an 
 invading army. Her father would take his position 
 by the desk ; Johann would take his place behind the 
 counter ; the quiet, uneventful round of barter would 
 go on and on. Day after day day after day. 
 Only in the kitchen, in the parlour, in the little yard 
 all would be still quite still. 
 
 She closed her eyes, but with closed eyes the image 
 of Johann, so frequently recurrent, rose painfully. 
 She started alert again. 
 
 Johann would never understand. With a new con- 
 fusion the new thought sprang up. Johann would 
 think She put her hand over her eyes. What 
 would Johann think ? Leaving like this without 
 a word without a. message without good-bye ! 
 
 Her eyes travelled down the counter, over a pile 
 of military cloaks, then upward to the black slate 
 and its recording chalk, hanging side by side upon 
 the wall. How many games of "Noughts and 
 Crosses " they had served for in childish days ! 
 
 She stood with a dazed mind ; her ideas rose and 
 fell each lifting itself to suffocate the last. Then 
 with a little cry she sprang back, her hand upon the 
 door. The silence had been rudely broken. The Dutch 
 clock had struck again seven inexorable beats. 
 
 In half an hour Johann would be downstairs. 
 Even now he was awake. In sudden fear she drew 
 back into the parlour ; but she left the communica- 
 tion door ajar.
 
 THE CIRCLE 131 
 
 She glanced to the right, then to the left ; she 
 passed her hand again over her eyes. Then she 
 raised her glance to the clock. It marked five min- 
 utes past the hour. Her feet seemed weighted to 
 the floor ; she feared to go ; she dreaded to stay. 
 
 Without a word ! Without good-bye ! The 
 thought rang through her confusion ; swung to 
 the ticking of the time. 
 
 Slowly, slowly she retraced her steps ; slowly she 
 passed into the shop and behind the counter ; blindly 
 she stumbled over the cloaks ; then hesitatingly she 
 stood before the slate. With her eyes on the ground 
 she took up the chalk. 
 
 Her fingers were numb ; her mind was numb ; her 
 hand poised itself irresolute. 
 
 Somewhere upstairs a chair was overturned. She 
 jerked, and the chalk made a white line on the black 
 surface. Shakingly she stiffened her wrist, wiped the 
 slate, then began to write. 
 
 She wrote slowly, painfully, indistinctly ; the let- 
 ters were jagged and stiff. 
 
 " Anna will come back." 
 
 Then, without a glance at her work, without a 
 backward look she replaced the chalk and walked 
 into the parlour ; from the parlour to the kitchen ; 
 from the kitchen into the yard ; from the yard out 
 into the street.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was an April day ; a day of cool sunshine, 
 budding leaves and promise. On either side of 
 Mrs. Maxtead's hall-door was a narrow win- 
 dow ; Branks, from his position in the hall, 
 watched the ebb and flow of life through the glass. 
 Looking to the left, he could scan the young green 
 of the Park trees, and raising his glance could catch 
 a glint of pale blue sky ; but his eyes had an absent 
 expression. One is apt to become absent when one 
 has gazed on the same scene with small intermission 
 for more than eight years. Not that Branks com- 
 plained ; his bread was buttered with a liberal hand, 
 and he understood the value of butter to an ounce. 
 
 His eyes continued to skim the greenness ; then 
 verged to the nearer grey of the road with its jin- 
 gling stream of vehicles ; its bright, swift rush of life. 
 London was filling; with every incoming train the 
 flood of humanity thickened ; with each new morn- 
 ing blinds were raised, tradesmen's ladders borne 
 away, furniture resurrected from its holland cover- 
 ings. The sense of a brilliant season was in the 
 air. 
 
 Branks speculated on the point with lazy satisfac- 
 tion. He was a little stouter, a little less supercilious
 
 THE CIRCLE 133 
 
 than in old days ; time had dealt with him as it 
 deals with a stone wall smoothing his surface and 
 rounding his corners. " In ten years," Mrs. Maxtead 
 .sometimes said, " Branks will be tolerable ; in twenty 
 he will be invaluable; in thirty " But Branks 
 was supremely unconscious of his promised fate. 
 
 He watched the flower-girl on the opposite path- 
 way ; he recognised an acquaintance on a passing 
 brougham, and leant nearer to the glass ; then all 
 at once a gleam of genuine interest brightened his 
 face and he stood upright. 
 
 " An ""ansom," he ejaculated, " at three in the after- 
 noon." He looked at the hall clock to verify his 
 impression, then his eyes returned to the window. 
 
 A second hansom, laden with luggage, had drawn 
 up behind the first; then almost simultaneously, a 
 third swayed into view ; the curiosity in Branks's 
 mind became almost a pain. 
 
 With a great shaking of harness and slipping of 
 hoofs, the horses had pulled up. To Branks there 
 was something almost portentous in the clatter of 
 sound ; he peered through the window, then caught 
 his breath. A lady descended, paid the cabman, and 
 turned to pat the horse. He felt his mouth gape. 
 
 Where had he seen her before ? The question 
 revolved slowly through his brain. 
 
 She was tall taller for the straightness of her 
 figure and the poise of her head ; but she was some- 
 thing more ; from the curve of her hat to her per- 
 fectly-shod feet she was distinguished, original,
 
 134 THE CIRCLE 
 
 striking. She wore a travelling-coat of dark sable 
 and carried a bunch of violets in her hand. 
 
 Where had he seen her before ? His dull mind was 
 twisted by the question. The outline was so familiar, 
 yet so unfamiliar, so tantalising, so aggravating. 
 Then quite swiftly she turned, and he gasped in 
 audible relief. 
 
 He remembered the portrait in the dining-room, 
 the girl in the trailing muslin dress and wide- 
 brimmed hat. Only yesterday his mistress had 
 turned from a pile of newspapers and nodded to the 
 picture. " The greatest actress in Europe, Branks ! " 
 she had said ; and he had replied, " Yes, ma'am,"" in 
 his most deferential tone. 
 
 With a flourish he threw the door wide. 
 
 The stranger ran up the steps ; her lips were smil- 
 ing, and her eyes seemed to reflect the smile. 
 
 " Branks ! " she said, holding out her hand. 
 
 Branks drew back ; custom and good training were 
 strong within him ; but the hand was still held out, 
 and there is a charm before which the most perfect 
 training in the world goes inevitably to the wall. 
 With an awkward movement he advanced. 
 
 " Ma'am miss " He was somewhat inco- 
 herent. " We have heard of your success, miss. 
 We all feel proud if I might say.'" 
 
 She laughed, but her eyes darkened for a second. 
 
 " It 's good to be home again, Branks. Where 's 
 Mrs. Maxtead ? In her bedroom P All right ; 
 don't announce me. Just see to my boxes and to
 
 THE CIRCLE 135 
 
 my maid ; she 's somewhere in the third cab." She 
 ran across the hall ; but on the lowest step of the 
 stairs she paused. 
 
 " Branks ! " 
 
 " Yes, miss." 
 
 " Is Mrs. Maxtead's bedroom still white ? In all the 
 times I Ve seen her, I Ve never remembered to ask." 
 
 " The room is still white, miss." 
 
 " Ah ! " She turned and flew up the stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laid down her newspaper with the 
 nearest approach to a start she had ever allowed 
 herself. 
 
 " Anna ! " she said sharply. " Anna from the 
 very skies ! " 
 
 The girl crossed tne room eagerly. "From no- 
 where so high, Jeanne." She bent laughingly and 
 kissed the other's cheek. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead, in her turn, laughed. " Listen to 
 this I was reading it as you opened the door. 
 'Mdlle. Solny, the young Parisian actress, contem- 
 plates a tour in Russia before opening her season in 
 London in the middle of May. 1 A trifle inconsist- 
 ent, eh ?" She raised her brows. 
 1 Anna swept the sheets aside. " My dear Jeanne, 
 who is ever consistent ? Teh 1 me, you are glad to 
 see me ?" 
 
 The other smiled again. " You know I never say 
 things saying is so bad for the imagination." But 
 she pressed the girl's hand. " Make your explanations, 
 Anna. Three weeks ago, in Vienna, you told me to
 
 136 THE CIRCLE 
 
 expect you four days before your opening night 
 not an hour sooner/' 
 
 " I know. But a month ago, Jeanne. Things 
 happen " She took off her hat and threw it on 
 the bed. 
 
 Her companion smiled again, a slightly ironical 
 smile. 
 
 " Why do you smile ?" Anna turned round. 
 
 " A reminiscence. You are very much and very 
 little changed, in the eight years." 
 
 Anna threw back her head " Don't talk of that. 
 Ask me why I came." 
 
 " I have asked." 1 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " How lovely of you to have a are ! " Anna crossed 
 the room and knelt on the white rug. " I 've been 
 praying for an English spring and an English fire 
 for four years." She bent close to the blaze and the 
 flames lit up her face. After a moment's wait she 
 turned round. 
 
 "It was two nights ago at the Archduchess's, 
 Jeanne ; Elslen had been singing you know how 
 her singing seems to tighten round one's heart. I 
 was standing by myself thinking making im- 
 possible dreams " She laughed a little and picked 
 up the bunch of violets that she had dropped a 
 second before. " Old Prince Roxoff came to me 
 sometimes he has a very gentle manner and he said 
 quite softly, * They tell me, Mademoiselle, that you 
 are going home/ In themselves the words were
 
 THE CIRCLE 137 
 
 nothing ; but they fell at the right moment ; they 
 touched something here " She put her fingers to 
 her throat. " I suddenly realised, Jeanne, how hol- 
 low it all was this trip to Russia this going 
 home a country I did n't remember, a people I 
 did n't know. It all came in an instant the 
 necessity the void. In the whole crowd about 
 me, each person had a place to turn to one little 
 -spot to call his own. The feeling was very strong, 
 Jeanne ; my thoughts flew straight back here " 
 She stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead came to her and laid her hand 
 gently on her arm. " You were quite right, Anna, 
 quite wise ; your home is with me, here with 
 me."" She paused for a moment to stroke the 
 girl's hand. "Sometimes, just sometimes, I have 
 feared " 
 
 Anna put up her hand. 
 
 " Not to-day ! " She smelt the violets ; then 
 sprang up. "Jeanne, I won't be serious on my 
 first day. Let's gossip. What do you do to- 
 night?" 
 
 " To-night ? Oh, I am at home ' to-night." 
 
 Anna clasped her hand*. " How fine ! Will 
 there be a crowd ? I thirst to meet a London crowd ; 
 to hear English spoken by every living soul. Oh, 
 but you can't quite understand ! " Her eyes shone. 
 " May I ring and order tea ? I like things at un- 
 reasonable hours." 
 
 " Mv dear child, how thoughtless of me ! " Mrs.
 
 138 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Maxtead crossed the room, but with her finger on 
 the bell, she turned. 
 
 " Anna." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I 'm not quite certain about to-night." 
 
 " Oh, Jeanne." The girl's voice fell. 
 
 " I have planned your first appearance in London, 
 your first introduction to London, so many times. 
 It has been one of my schemes. It was to be brilliant 
 in every sense." 
 
 " I "m tired of brilliance." 
 
 " I am not tired of brilliance for you." In eight 
 years the voice had lost nothing of its ring. 
 
 Anna frowned ; then laughed. " Would you send 
 me to bed, like a naughty child ? " 
 
 " Possibly." Mrs. Maxtead was speculative ; then 
 swiftly, with a flash of energy, she moved back to the 
 centre of the room. " My dear Anna, what are you 
 thinking of? What are you dreaming of? You 
 forget that the very hoardings in the streets talk of 
 your coming. You will be a nine days 1 wonder when 
 you are first seen." 
 
 Anna arranged her violets. " I M gladly postpone 
 the nine days' 1 wonder. But, Jeanne, I do want to 
 meet your guests ; I do want to listen to the crowd." 
 
 " My dear child " 
 
 Anna moved quickly forward ; there was colour in 
 her face and her eyes gleamed. " Jeanne," she said 
 suddenly, " I have an inspiration. I have an idea. 
 You say yourself that I am unknown here that
 
 THE CIRCLE 139 
 
 I've not been seen. Let me enjoy the blessing? 
 Let's forget engagements and triumphs and sensa- 
 tions just for once > let me be your protegee 
 'u:vt your protegee returned from abroad? The 
 chances are twenty to one, a hundred to one, 
 that I sha'n^t be recognised. I can wear a white 
 frock and a string of pearls. I can look nineteen. 
 Jeanne "" 
 
 The appeal was irresistible. Mrs. Maxtead^s lips 
 tightened, then relaxed ; at last she laughed. 
 
 " And the great Solny ? " she said. 
 
 " Will give her understudy a chance. I take 
 the responsibility, Jeanne. 1 11 sit in the darkest 
 corner, and be the least attractive woman in the 
 room. 11 
 
 The other looked at her; then her lips fell to 
 their old satirical curve. "The corner will have 
 to be very dark," she said dryly ; and re-crossing the 
 room, she pressed the bell.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER II 
 
 A~TER dinner, Mrs. Maxtead rose and 
 slipped her arm through Anna's. 
 " Come upstairs," she said. " It "s 
 only nine ; I like an hour in my own 
 room before the storm bursts."" 
 
 They both laughed and moved across the room, 
 then crossing the hall, slowly ascended the stairs. 
 
 In the bedroom the fire had been replenished ; 
 otherwise the room was dark. Anna crossed to the 
 window and drew the curtains back. The sky was 
 clear and studded with stars ; the moon, in its first 
 quarter, hung above the opposite trees ; against the 
 dark roadway the cab lamps made a stream of flit- 
 ting lights. She looked in silence for a while ; then 
 quite abruptly she spoke. 
 
 " I am breaking my own precepts, Jeanne." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was holding a match to the tall 
 candles on the dressing-table. " In what ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 ** I wanted to be shallow to-night, and my mind 
 will be perverse, and think." 
 
 " Come away from the window, then. Tke stars 
 are always demoralising."
 
 THE CIRCLE 14i 
 
 "Which makes them all the more irresistible. 
 What were you going to *ay to-day when I stopped 
 you?" 
 
 " Nothing worth remembering." Mrs. Maxtead 
 studied a candle-flame. 
 
 " Ah !" Anna's voice dropped. " Ifs the things 
 not worth remembering that come out and haunt 
 one in the night. Don't you find it so ? " 
 
 " My dear child, so few people see ghosts since 
 bromides came into fashion.' 1 ' 1 
 
 Anna laughed a little. ; '- But, Jeanne, how much 
 we change ! Once I used to believe in facing things ; 
 now, at the first glimpse of an unpleasantness, I shut 
 my eyes and turn my back. Is that very weak ? "" 
 
 "Ifs very foolish. Look an enemy in the face 
 and he will turn tail." 
 
 "That sounds so easy and so nice." She leant 
 her forehead against the glass and looked up at the 
 sky. " Enemies go, but facts stick. I know ; I 
 have tried." 
 
 " Then you did n't look straight enough." 
 
 There was a pause. The figures across the way 
 glided together, passed and re-passed ; the cab lights 
 danced by ; the leaves of the trees stirred in the faint 
 wind. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead crossed the room and stood by the 
 girl's side. In the glow of the candles, one saw the 
 touch of grey in her brown hair, the faint lines about 
 her eyes and mouth ; but in the shadow of the 
 window, only her hands, untouched by time, and
 
 142 THE CIRCLE 
 
 ier slight alert figure were apparent to the glance. 
 She stood as she might have stood eight years before ; 
 when she spoke, it was in the same voice, with the 
 same precision, the same inflexibly assured ring. 
 
 " Anna," she said, "you think I don't see your 
 thoughts. I am looking into them as if they were a 
 pool of water where I could see every shred of moss 
 and every tiny stone. This is a difficult moment for 
 you ; you must make it a successful one. Take this 
 ghost of yours and kill it outright ; make an end of 
 it, once for all. You h^ 1 e rolled it into a grave and 
 strewn earth over it, then you have run away ; and all 
 the time sleeping and waking, resting and working 
 
 you have the thought that it 's not dead, that at 
 any moment it can shake off the earth and rise " 
 
 Anna put out her hand. " Stop, Jeanne. I won't 
 listen ; I won't hear." 
 
 There was a long wait ; then she turned suddenly 
 and caught the other's hand. " Jeanne, what a fool 
 I am ! I 'm thirsting to hear thirsting to speak 
 
 and you know I am." She freed her hand again, 
 and pushed back her hair. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was silent. 
 
 "When you took me away, eight years ago, 
 I wrote a letter every day, to Johann or to my 
 father letters pages long, letters of explanation, of 
 affection, of homesickness, and I stored them away, 
 promising myself to post them in five years' time. 
 The posting was to be my first act of emancipation 
 
 my first act ; I saw myself running through the
 
 THE CIRCLE 143 
 
 streets with the bundle in my hand ; I saw myself 
 as I heard it drop into the letter box. I have cried 
 night after night, Jeanne, at the length of those five 
 debarred years ; I have waked morning after morn- 
 ing, with a prayer of thankfulness that another day 
 was gone. 11 She turned to the window. " But that 
 was eight years ago eight whole years ago. In 
 the second year I wrote my letters every week instead 
 of every day ; in the third, I wrote them every month 
 and not always every month ; in the fourth, I 
 ceased to write at all." She stopped. 
 
 " At the end of the fifth year oh, you Knew the 
 world very well, Jeanne; you had calculated very 
 well at the end of the fifth year, on the day of 
 my triumph at the Conservatoire, you came to me 
 and reminded me that our old bargain was ended 
 and our new bargain was to begin, that I was a 
 woman, free to do what I liked with my own life. 
 You were quite frank, quite generous I think you 
 guessed how safe the generosity was. And I what 
 did I do? Where were my resolutions and my 
 promises to myself ? With my ambition on fire and 
 my conceit running riot, I went to my own room, 
 locked the door, and burnt the letters one by 
 one. You never knew how well you scored you 
 and the world ! " She laughed with a catch in her 
 voice. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's glance was fixed on the sky with 
 its light of misted stars. Presently she lowered her 
 lids. " And now ? " she said.
 
 144 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Now ? "" Anna lifted her head. " There 's no 
 * now? Jeanne for that. I have learnt the lesson 
 very well ; something seems dead here '"" She 
 touched her heart. " Sometimes I think 't will never 
 wake up again. The time is gone when I could 
 say ' I hate you ! I hate you ! ' as I once said. I 
 have grown blunt ; I see through you now, Jeanne ; 
 I understand you ; but I can't say ' I hate you ! ' any 
 more. You are a part of the world, and I Ve grown 
 to like the world its good things its ease and 
 its success. When the old days come back, I shut 
 my eyes ; I can't look them in the face and deny 
 them, as you would do ; I can't look them in the 
 face and acknowledge them ; so I take the middle 
 course, I shut my eyes. Jeanne "" She looked 
 suddenly into the other's face. "Jeanne, let me 
 keep my eyes shut ? " She raised her hand again 
 with the old childish gesture, and pushed back her 
 hair ; then she shivered slightly and turned to the 
 window. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved softly into the room and 
 set a light to the groups of candles hanging from 
 the wall. Then she walked back to Anna and 
 touched her arm. 
 
 The girl started, wheeled about, then laughed 
 nervously. 
 
 " Oh, the lights ! What a charm against bad 
 thoughts ! You are very comprehending, Jeanne." 
 She laughed again unevenly ; and Mrs. Maxtead 
 drew the curtains across the window.
 
 THE CIRCLE 145 
 
 Anna walked to the fireplace, then to the dressing- 
 table. " Look ! " she said. " I \e tangled my pearls. 
 Help me to get them right ? " 
 
 The other came forward, and they stood together 
 in the circle of light. In a moment her fingers had 
 unloosed the knot; then she raised her head and 
 caught their reflections side by side in the glass. 
 Her own figure in its black dress, her own face with 
 its tiny, inexorable lines, her hair coiled to show 
 almost ostentatiously the light patch of grey ; and 
 the girlish figure half a head taller than her own, 
 the slim neck, the straight white dress, perfect in its 
 simple lines. With great deliberation she raised 
 her eyes inch by inch, till, with a little shock, their 
 glances met in the glass. 
 
 Anna stirred. The other laughed sharply and 
 turned away. 
 
 " I must rush ! I believe I hear the first carriage. 
 Wait here, Anna, for the present ; in half an hour, 
 when the crowd begins to thicken, slip downstairs ; 
 I '11 save somebody nice for you till then."" She 
 laughed again and moved to the door ; with her 
 fingers on the handle she turned back. 
 
 "There's a better charm against bad thoughts 
 than light, Anna." 
 
 Anna raised her head. " What 's that ? " 
 
 " Youth." With a swish of her skirts, Mrs. 
 Maxtead shut the door. 
 
 10
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER III 
 
 FOR long after her hostess left her, Anna 
 stood by the dressing- table. From down- 
 stairs a faint murmur reached her the 
 jingling echo of trafic borne through the 
 open door into the hall, the hum of laughter and 
 voices, the pulsation and rustle and movement that 
 denotes arriving guests. She heard it mechanically, 
 as one hears the roar of a storm while absorbed in 
 the reading of a book ; then, as when a wilder gust 
 of wind shakes the house, one sometimes shuts the 
 book, she broke the thread of her musings and raised 
 her head, attracted by a fresh sound. The swing of 
 music, low but unmistakable, came across the room. 
 
 She stood upright and her face brightened ; it was 
 a gay, inconsequent tune, a waltz she had danced to 
 countless times. It roused her, stirred her ; uncon- 
 sciously she walked to the door and opened it a little 
 way ; the rush t)f existence became audible again, 
 running below the music in faint accompaniment 
 Cautiously she stepped across the corridor and looked 
 over the stairs. 
 
 The scene was bright. Against the dark carpeting, 
 the glimmer of jewels and the soft tones of women's 
 dresses made a glow and patch of colour; from 
 between the palms of the inner hall the waltz floated
 
 THE CIRCLE 147 
 
 up inspiritingly ; she caught the light scrape of the 
 violins, the deeper throb of the 'cello. With a 
 sudden impulse she turned again and passed back 
 into the room. 
 
 Crossing to the dressing-table, she stood before 
 the glass and studied her reflection while a minute 
 passed ; with subdued excitement she caught up two 
 candlesticks and raised them till the light fell full 
 upon her face ; then, silently replacing them, she 
 picked up her gloves, and hummed the tune of the 
 waltz as she drew them on. A second later she left 
 the room, descended by a side staircase, and stood in 
 momentary hesitation by the door of the reception- 
 room, 
 
 The reception-room was the largest in the house, 
 and, to Anna, the least familiar. In former days its 
 polished floor, its panels and gilding, its furniture of 
 Louis XVI., had each in turn been a source of awe. 
 She smiled a little now, as she remembered how 
 large they once had loomed ; then a glimpse of her 
 hostess's black dress caught her eye, and she crossed 
 the room. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was standing in a quiet corner ; a 
 tall screen served the double purpose of a back- 
 ground and a partial shield. As Anna approached, 
 she was leaning back against it, her eyes lowered, her 
 fan swaying gently, as she talked to her companion, 
 a young man with a straight, slight figure and an 
 attentive pose of the head. She looked round with 
 a smile as the girl reached her.
 
 148 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " You 've chosen a good moment," she said. " I "m 
 taking temporary shelter. The hurricane was pretty 
 bad." She laughed ; then her gaze narrowed to the 
 girl's face. " But what have you been doing ? Your 
 eyes look like big stars." 
 
 Anna laughed and blushed. " I have been study- 
 ing charms as propounded by you " She caught 
 the stranger's eye and stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laid her fingers on her arm. " Anna, 
 I 've always wanted you to know Mr. Strode. May 
 I introduce him now ? " 
 
 Anna smiled and the stranger bowed. There was 
 courteous deference in his bearing, vitality and 
 strength in the clearness of his eyes and the healthy 
 tan of his skin. She was noting each item when 
 Mrs. Maxtead spoke again. 
 
 " Mr. Strode is favoured by Fate," she said. " He 
 is delightful by nationality. Half his life has been 
 spent in Canada, half in Cornwall ; he can express 
 an Englishman's sincerity with an American's charm." 
 
 Anna smiled again, and Strode laughed. 
 
 "I'm afraid," he said, "that Mrs. Maxtead 's 
 rather like a lightning flash. She drops into dingy 
 corners, then imagines they were never dark." His 
 voice was easy and assured, his manner had a faint 
 deliberation, his eyes an attentive way of resting on 
 his listener's face that marked him from other men. 
 
 Involuntarily Anna returned his glance. " Jeanne 
 has the secret of popularity," she said ; " she sees 
 people as they would be seen."
 
 THE CIRCLE 149 
 
 " Which implies ? " His lips took a humorous 
 turn. 
 
 Before she could answer, Mrs. Maxtead bent for- 
 ward and touched her arm. " My dear, good people, 
 you must find your implications for yourselves. I 
 see a new arrival." She swept away from them, then 
 turned with a characteristic smile. " Popularity is 
 an invalid that requires a good deal of nursing, 
 Anna,"" she said, with a little nod. 
 
 Strode laughed as she disappeared in the crowd. 
 " A brilliant woman is rather wonderful," he said 
 slowly, " but I don't think that I 'd care to marry 
 one. T would be like living in a conservatory the 
 temperature always abnormal and always artificial ; 
 one would grow afraid to open the door." 
 
 Anna looked across the screen to the gay groups 
 beyond. Her lips were parted, her eyes shone ; she 
 felt an exhilaration in this stranger's presence, hi.s 
 youth, his health, his quiet assurance, all affected 
 her. He typified a new civilisation he was the 
 product of a newer world, where the worn-out and 
 the incapable move to the wall ; where the race, and 
 the prize of the race, are to the few and the strong. 
 She turned to him, unconsciously speaking herthought. 
 
 " I fancy you would open any door," she said 
 quickly ; " I don't picture you trembling on the 
 inner side." 
 
 He smiled. " That 's very charming of you ; but 
 I don't quite know that I deserve it all. It 's 
 difficult to measure oneself, don't you think ? "
 
 150 THE CIRCLE 
 
 She looked again across the room. 
 
 ** I hardly know ; at best of times, it 's an un- 
 pleasant process one generally finds oneself so 
 very small. But let us talk of something else." 
 She turned once more and met his eyes, and the con- 
 tact gave her an unlooked-for thrill. " Have you 
 known Jeanne for long ? Are you one of the set ? " 
 She indicated the groups with a movement of her 
 fan. 
 
 He laughed. " Oh, absolutely not. I 'm an 
 outsider an off-season friend. When Mrs. Max- 
 tead comes to Trescar, she takes compassion upon 
 me. We are neighbours there, you know. From the 
 tower of my house I can see the woodbine climbing 
 round her chimney-stacks. We introduced ourselves 
 on the strength of that woodbine." He laughed 
 again. 
 
 " But I thought Jeanne said Canada ? ~" She 
 raised her eyes. 
 
 "She said Cornwall as well."" He smiled. "I 
 lived at Trescar till I was fifteen years old ; then my 
 father died, and my uncle in Canada thought that 
 trade in a new country was better for me than tra- 
 dition in an old, and I was shipped to America 
 much against my will. I was twenty-one before 
 I saw home again. You can guess I counted the 
 years." 
 
 Anna looked down critically at her gloves. " You 
 returned when you came of age ? " 
 
 " I sailed on my birthday. " He laughed. " I 'm
 
 THE CIRCLE 151 
 
 afraid I rather stick at things ; no place will ever be 
 quite Cornwall to me ; I look to returning perma- 
 nently one day, when my pile is made." He 
 laughed once more. 
 
 " And in the mean time ? " Anna smoothed her 
 gloves. 
 
 " Oh, in the mean time, I grind hard at copper- 
 mining, and when trade and my uncle can spare me, 
 I run across. But why do you never come to 
 Trescar ? Don't you like the sea ? " 
 
 She looked up quickly. " I loved the sea before 
 I ever saw it ; now it is a sort of fetish to me. But 
 I've never seen Trescar or Jeanne's White Cot- 
 tage. Like you, I Ve been out of England for many 
 years."" 
 
 "Studying?" 
 
 " Studying."" She smoothed her glove again ; then 
 again she looked up. " Yes ; also like you, I want 
 to make my fortune some day some distant day. 
 For the present I 'm content to hear other people 
 talk of theirs. 11 
 
 There was a pause ; scraps of conversation floated 
 to them, the sound of passing skirts on the opposite 
 side of the screen, the sway of the music from the 
 hall outside. Strode moved nearer to her by a 
 step. 
 
 " I wish you 'd come to Cornwall," he said impul- 
 sively. " I don't know why, but I feel we 'd grow to 
 know each other there. There's something about 
 the sea that levels things prejudice and formality
 
 152 THE CIRCLE 
 
 and things." He stopped and smoothed his fault- 
 lessly smooth hair. His speech had the slight man- 
 nerism, his voice the deliberate intonation that 
 in the new country the Englishman endeavours 
 lo acquire and the American does his best to 
 discard. 
 
 Anna looked at him. " That "s very true," she 
 said. *' I \ r e often thought it, but I Ve never put 
 it in quite that way. The sea has a wonderful 
 power." 
 
 " Yes. Like some people, it takes one out of one- 
 self. Do you know that we Ve been standing here 
 for half an hour ? " 
 
 She glanced round and coloured. " No ; when 
 one is interested I suppose one forgets." Her eyes 
 were very bright. 
 
 " Precisely. Would I be trespassing if I asked 
 you to come and find a seat somewhere outside 
 the crowd ? Be quite candid in your answer ; I come 
 from a country where people mostly say exactly what 
 they mean." He paused, waiting for her reply, and 
 it struck her that no man had ever looked her so 
 honestly in the eyes. A wave of life, of exhilaration, 
 of youth swept across her ; she returned his glance 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Jeanne says that candour is worse than crime," 
 she said. " Whose dogma shall I follow ? Hers or 
 yours ? " Her eyes gleamed. 
 
 Involuntarily Strode came nearer still. " Do 
 neither. Let me answer for you."
 
 THE CIRCLE 153 
 
 The room was brilliantly lighted ; against the 
 darkness of the screen his face showed up refined and 
 reliant. Anna opened and shut her fan. 
 
 " And what would the answer be ? " She laughed 
 a little, but unconsciously her voice dropped. 
 
 He laughed as well ; then bowed gravely. 
 'T would be just this "" He offered her his 
 arm.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER IV 
 
 MRS. MAXTEAD sat before her bed- 
 room fire. It was well past two o'clock, 
 but as yet her only attempt at retiring 
 for the night had consisted of drawing 
 off all her rings and making them into a little heap. 
 A cup of black coffee stood on a table by her side, 
 and against the saucer rested a half-burnt cigarette. 
 
 On her face was an expression of expectation an 
 expectation that settled into quiet certainty when 
 the handle of her door was softly turned and some- 
 one came into the room. She made no attempt to 
 raise her head or to look behind ; but with a faint 
 movement that was satisfaction and decision in one, 
 she let the rings slip to her lap and brought her 
 finger-tips together. 
 
 Anna came silently across the room. She was 
 wrapped in a Chinese robe with a fantastic pattern 
 in gold, and wore slippers of Oriental make. She 
 crossed the room and laid her hands on Mrs. Max- 
 tead's shoulders ; then her eyes fell on the coffee-cup 
 and she smiled. 
 
 " Coffee and cigarettes at two in the morning ! 
 How many women would be sipping hot water and 
 preparing for a day in bed ! "
 
 THE CIRCLE 155 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laughed her satirical laugh. " Days 
 in bed make me realise the grave." She gave a little 
 shiver. "As for hot water I never could tolerate 
 it outside my bath." She lifted the coffee-cup to her 
 l i- ps, and laying it down, picked up the cigarette and 
 tossed it into the fire. 
 
 "But I've come to a conclusion concerning you, 
 Anna. Sit on the ground and lean against my knees." 
 
 Anna gathered her wrapper about her and obeyed. 
 To sit on the ground before a fire and gaze into the 
 blaze charmed her now as much as it had ever done. 
 It was her most confidential, her most familiar, pose, 
 and long ago Mrs. Maxtead had gauged its worth. 
 
 For a moment they both followed the play of the 
 firelight on the dark blue and gold of the girl's robe ; 
 then the silence fell away. 
 
 " Your conclusion, Jeanne ? I am curious." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead made a tower of her rings, then 
 tossed it down again. " To-night passed," she said, 
 " but it can't be repeated. You 're too conspicu- 
 ous no, that 's a hateful word : you 're too original 
 for London, Anna. The dark corners- are too few." 
 
 " Jeanne, how inhospitable how veiy horrid of 
 you ! " Anna raised her eyes. 
 
 " How considerate of me ! " She touched the 
 girl's cheek. " My dear child, something must be 
 arranged In three days people will be talking ; in a 
 week you will be recognised in a whispering, half- 
 hearted way, and the big splash that I have promised 
 myself will degenerate into a little ring of bubbles.
 
 156 THE CIRCLE 
 
 I can't have that, you know. I can't have it ! " She 
 straightened herself. 
 
 A moment followed in which the words died away ; 
 then, half humorously and half seriously, Anna set 
 her lips. 
 
 " I won't leave England, Jeanne ; it 's no use." 
 
 A faint amused gleam crossed the other's eyes. 
 " England or London ? " .she asked below her 
 breath. 
 
 Anna hesitated ; then unaccountably blushed. 
 "England I think." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead leant back in her chair ; she seemed 
 to make deductions and calculations that were not 
 unpleasant to her mind ; when at last she half raised 
 her lids and spoke again, her voice had its old silky 
 tone. 
 
 " You 've heard me speak of Trescar, Anna ? " 
 
 The girl moved slightly. Her fingers carefully 
 outlined a gold dragon that stretched across her 
 robe. 
 
 Her companion almost smiled. 
 
 " Have you ever thought of Cornwall as a place of 
 interest ? Of course the sea there is n't like the sea 
 at Naples, but still She let her voice drop. 
 
 Anna bent over her task ; she was absorbed in the 
 curves of the dragon's tail. 
 
 " There is a great slope of rock at Trescar and a 
 stretch of heather, and rather a picturesque view. 
 I forget whether you like views."" 
 
 With a twist of the wrist Anna finished trac-
 
 THE CIRCLE 157 
 
 ing the tail; then, smiling irresistibly, she turned 
 round. 
 
 "Jeanne, what are you driving at? "" 
 
 For a space Mrs. Maxtead looked at the fire in 
 silence ; then, against her will, she responded to 
 the smile. 
 
 '* My dear Anna, it is not artistic to be so abrupt. 
 I 'm driving at a proposition ; I 'm trying to make 
 concessions." She paused a little ; then leant for- 
 ward, speaking fast. "If I cancel all my engage- 
 ments for three weeks, will you come with me to 
 Cornwall to-morrow ? Stay with me there as long 
 as I like, put everything into my hands to man- 
 age as I think best ? " 
 
 " Which means a little quiet, and eventually, the 
 splash ? "" Anna made a slight grimace. 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 They both laughed ; then the girl put up her hand. 
 " Spatter the whole town if you like, Jeanne ; I don't 
 mind." For a second their fingers touched, and there 
 was something of understanding, something of sym- 
 pathy in the silent pressure ; then, gathering her rings 
 into a little heap, Mrs. Maxtead slowly rose. 
 
 She leant against the mantel-shelf and stood look- 
 ing down. " Has Prince Roxoff asked you to marry 
 him since that night at the Opera ? " 
 
 " Twice since that night."" Anna looked intently 
 into the fire. " Do you call me a fool, Jeanne ? A 
 man of seventy-four, with provinces in three coun- 
 tries. 1 " She laughed a little ironically.
 
 158 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead picked up a polishing-pad and began 
 to rub her nails. 
 
 " A man with three provinces is apt to have 
 superfluous possessions,"" she said dryly. " No. I 'm 
 inclined to call you wise. The right man, Anna, 
 will have a good deal more than three provinces 
 and a good deal less, it seems to me. 11 Her 
 bright eyes scanned the girl's face. " Now run 
 along to bed. To-morrow morning we'll talk busi- 
 ness in the study ; to-morrow evening at Trescar 
 we'll begin to forget that business exists. Good- 
 night ! " She bent lightly and kissed the girl's cheek. 
 
 Anna rose. For a space she stood stroking a fold of 
 her robe ; then she looked up. " I came to say a lot 
 of things, Jeanne ; now they somehow won't get said." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was intent upon her nails. " Some- 
 how I think I understand." 1 Her voice had a quizzical 
 turn. 
 
 Anna smiled and moved towards the door ; half- 
 way across the room she stopped. 
 
 " Jeanne." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Mr. Strode will be at Trescar." 
 
 After the words came a little pause ; then with a 
 delightful assumption of vagueness, Mrs. Maxtead 
 raised her head. 
 
 " Maurice ? " She hesitated. " Oh, of course, 
 Maurice Strode." 
 
 Anna blushed. "Yes; the American; the man 
 who was here to-night. I only wanted to say that
 
 THE CIRCLE 159 
 
 he has got the ridiculous idea into his head that 
 I am a relation a cousin, or something, of yours. 1 ' 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead returned to the polishing of her 
 nails. " We can easily undeceive him on that score, 
 if that is all." 
 
 " Of course."" Anna's voice was not enthusiastic. 
 She took a few steps forward, then paused afresh. 
 
 " Jeanne." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "It's rather nice to be talked to to be liked, 
 you know, just for oneself." 
 
 " So I have alwa3 - s found. 1 * 
 
 " You are exasperating ! " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laughed very softly. Anna took 
 two steps onward, then paused for a third time. 
 
 " Jeanne." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Would it be very wrong would it matter 
 much if I stayed your cousin for the three 
 weeks ? " Her eyes were bright as they had been 
 when she stood behind the screen; there was a 
 new quick excitement in her voice. 
 
 Her companion noted both, though her head was 
 bent. When she raised her eyes, there was unmis- 
 takable laughter in their depths. 
 
 " That depends on Maurice Strode's sense of right 
 ar d wrong," she said dryly, " not upon mine. But 
 * *are say we can work it, if you really like."
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER * 
 
 MRS. MAXTEAD leant back against a 
 comfortably curved rock and shifted 
 her white parasol till its shadow fell 
 across her book ; for ten minutes she 
 read on without raising her head. 
 
 The corner was unique : on either hand rose rocks 
 of varied shape, lichened to rust-colour and black 
 and grey ; behind, the cliff loomed up, a guarding 
 wall of gorse and bracken, crossed by a thread-like 
 path ; and straight in front, immense, superb, illimit- 
 able, stretched the sea and sky the one a haze of 
 mauve, the other a sweep of blue, the two blended 
 and toned and merged in a mist of light bronze; 
 while above all, fulfilment of the morning's promise, 
 surety for the coining night, hovered the stillness, 
 the breathlessness that belongs so absolutely and so 
 exquisitely to one hour in the twenty-four. 
 
 Suddenly Mrs. Maxtead shut her book. " What 
 a glare ! " she said. " With a little imagination, one 
 might conjure Egypt. Sixpence for your thoughts, 
 Anna ! * 
 
 Anna s-tirred luxuriously. She lay at full length 
 on the strip of grass that the nook afforded ; her hat 
 M-a* off. her hands clapped behind her head ; her eyes,
 
 THE CIRCLE 161 
 
 wide open in deep enjoyment, seemed to reflect the 
 beauty of both sea and sky. "I'm not thinking, 
 Jeanne, I 'm realising." She unclasped her hands 
 and clasped them again, for the mere pleasure of 
 the act. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked towards the horizon with 
 amused eyes. "Women should never realise.' 1 
 
 Anna smiled. " Women should never moralise 
 at the sea. If one has a good hour, why should n't 
 one appreciate it ? I don't like to put my finger on 
 a thing and say, ' This will be mine to-morrow,' or 
 * This was mine yesterday ; ' I like to catch it quite 
 tight and say, 'This is mine now to-da).'" 
 
 " You tempt Fate when you say that." 
 
 " Pessimist ! " She laughed ; then in a moment her 
 manner changed and she turned round. " Jeanne," 
 she said, " I 've suddenly realised how much I owe to 
 you. First you taught me how to walk through the 
 world without cutting my feet or losing my way; 
 and now, when my feet begin to sound just ever so 
 little hollow to my own ears, you whisk me away, 
 draw back the big dividing curtain, and give me a 
 glimpse into heaven all rest and sea and sun, with 
 no parts, no popularity, no people to get in one's 
 way and breathe up one's air." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked down at her book ; the 
 corners of her mouth were ever so slightly raised. 
 "No people, Anna ? " 
 
 The girl coloured. " How horribly literal you 
 are ! People, of course in their proper places." 
 
 11
 
 162 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead shut her parasol with a good deal 
 of elaboration. "I should rather like to under- 
 stand," she said. 
 
 " You know very well what I mean. The village 
 people in the dear little straggling village ; the fish- 
 ermen mending their nets and tarring their boats ; 
 old Treherne up at the Cottage trying to find weeds 
 in the flower-beds on the lawn " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead suddenly raised her head. 
 
 " And Maurice Strode everywhere," she said. 
 "I imagine I understand. 1 ' 
 
 Anna sat straight up. " That 's the first tactless 
 thing I Ve known you to say, Jeanne." 
 
 The other smiled with serene good-humour. " It 
 is hard to be truthful and tactful both." 
 
 Anna took her chin in her hand, and gazed be- 
 fore her at the sea. " It has n't even the excuse of 
 truth." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead narrowed her eyes in calculation. 
 " We came here in the middle of April," she said, 
 " and it is now the beginning of May. I may be 
 wrong, but I cannot recall three consecutive hours of 
 any day in which we have not seen Maurice Strode. 
 Of course I may be wrong " 
 
 Anna watched the sea deepen from azure to steel, 
 and as she watched, a change passed across her face, 
 her expressions wavered and moved like clouds before 
 the wind ; the frown between her eyebrows smoothed
 
 THE CIRCLE 163 
 
 itself away ; the flush on her cheeks paled a little ; 
 at last she smiled. 
 
 " Jeanne," she said, turning with a sudden impulse, 
 " why is it that one can never be really angry with 
 you?" 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved her parasol as she might 
 have shrugged her shoulders. "One does n't lose 
 one's temper with a gnat because it stings. But you 
 are slipping past the point, and the point interests 
 me. When two women accept a man when he is 
 present, and combine to ignore him when he is 
 absent, it means that one of the two takes him 
 seriously. Now I haven't taken a man seriously 
 for thirteen years. What am I to conclude?" 
 
 " That all theories are fallible.'" Anna laughed 
 hastily and covered her cheek with her hand. 
 
 There was a silence, in which the girl sat preter- 
 naturally still, while her companion plucked three 
 grasses and began to plait them with distracting 
 care. 
 
 "Talking of theories,"" she said at length, "I 
 wonder how Maurice will take his enlightening?" 
 
 "His enlightening ?" Anna turned round. 
 
 "The sorting of his ideas, if you like it better. 
 I wonder how my little cousin with her simple 
 manners and her linen frocks will expand into 
 Solny, who has set the fashion in shoes and scent 
 for three Parisian seasons whose cast-off flowers 
 are worth five times their weight in gold whose 
 hats three painters have made famous ? " She
 
 164 THE CIRCLE 
 
 paused between every phrase, arranging her blades 
 of grass. 
 
 A wave of colour spread across Anna's face. " I 
 think Mr. Strode will understand; he is a gentleman." 
 
 The other laughed. " Man is an older word than 
 gentleman, Anna ; and man is a conservative animal." 
 She stopped. 
 
 Anna rose and leant against the rock ; the sun 
 had fallen palpably ; the first faint shadow of the 
 evening crept across the cliff with a little chill. She 
 shivered, then laughed, but some of the spontane- 
 ity was lacking in the laugh. " We are changing 
 places," she said. " You are getting sentimental and 
 I serious ; it s time we were getting home." 
 
 " We dine with Maurice to-night." 
 
 " I know." She picked up her hat. " How per- 
 sistent you are, Jeanne ! " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead unloosed her grasses and began 
 plaiting them again. " Persistence is a jewel," she 
 said, " if one learns how to polish it. In looking at 
 Maurice^s face, what strikes you most ? " 
 
 " Nothing." Anna arranged her hat. 
 
 " Anna ! " 
 
 "Oh, well his eyes; the horribly steady look 
 about his eyes." She spoke with a little rush. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead nodded once or twice as she 
 completed her task. " Anna," she said tentatively, 
 " have you ever noticed that men with those eyes 
 those horribly steady eyes can be somewhat hard 
 to handle a little restive on occasion ?"
 
 THE CIRCLE 165 
 
 Anna's lips took on an obdurate curve. " Perhaps 
 I 'm dense, Jeanne ; I confess I don't understand." 
 She straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead smiled very gently to herself and 
 rose. One by one, she collected her cushions, then 
 she rolled her parasol and began her ascent of the 
 cliff; a yard or two up the narrow path she paused. 
 
 "Aren't you coming?" she said. "There are 
 honey cakes for tea." 
 
 Anna turned. " Jeanne, 11 she said below her 
 breath. 
 
 The other balanced herself neatly, and looked 
 down with a cheerful smile. 
 
 Their eyes met arid there was a pause , then Ann* 
 blushed. 
 
 " Jeanne, you have been very painstaking and I 
 have been very detestable. Let me carry your rug ?"
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER 
 
 ON their arrival that night, Strode met 
 them in the hall. They had lunched 
 with him twice, and once they had 
 strolled across from the Cottage at tea- 
 time and had been shown over the whole rambling 
 house, from the dining-room with its oak settles and 
 rafters to the tower at the eastern angle ; but they 
 had never dined with him before. 
 
 The dinner was an epoch. Strode had felt it as 
 he dressed ; he had felt it as he paced the terrace, a 
 cigar between his lips, his eyes on the White Cottage; 
 and he realised it with something of a shock as he 
 held Anna's hand for a moment and saw that the 
 cottons and muslins had been set aside for something 
 that shimmered softly like the leaf of a rose. He 
 felt the change with a subtle physical thrill, and 
 involuntarily his fingers tightened upon hers. 
 
 " This is very good of you," he said gently ; then 
 he turned to Mrs. Maxtead with a smile. 
 
 " I Ve been dreading your wrath all day," he 
 began, as they crossed the hall to the drawing-room 
 beyond, " I Ve had a real bad afternoon." 
 
 " Poor Maurice ! What 's happened ? Your cook 
 mutinied ? "
 
 THE CIRCLE 167 
 
 "Worse. You see, three people can't dine to- 
 gether 11 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " If you Ye sarcastic, I 'm going to stop.** 
 
 ''* My dear boy, I 'in earnest to depression. Please 
 go on." 
 
 * Well, there had to be a man to make a fourth." 
 They entered the drawing-room. 
 
 Anna laughed. " What it is to have a reputa- 
 tion, Jeanne ! " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead walked to a mirror. " Would you 
 say that Maurice was thinking quite absolutely of 
 me ? But who is this mysterious individual ? " 
 
 " I 'm afraid to tell you." 
 
 "Rake up your courage! All men are alike to 
 me." 
 
 " But you have antipathies." 
 
 " So have cats. Be quick ! " 
 
 Strode smoothed his hair whimsically. " 1 11 put 
 it in the form of a riddle. What comes nearest to 
 death?" 
 
 "Doctors," responded Mrs. Maxtead promptly. 
 
 Strode laughed. " Right ! You 've struck the 
 fourth guest. It "s the doctor from Cavely ; a very 
 decent chap, who's driving fourteen miles for the 
 pleasure of meeting you. Just appreciate that." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead waited to touch her hair, then she 
 looked round. " I '11 smell chloroform every time I 
 look at him ; and I know I shall watch him cut up 
 his
 
 168 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Strode's lips twitched. "There's a game called 
 playing with fire." 
 
 She picked up a book. 
 
 Anna was smelling a jar of pot-pourri ; she raised 
 her eyes, gleaming with amusement, and met Strode's 
 glance. "You can always think, Jeanne, that it 
 might have been an undertaker." 
 
 " Doctor Penrhyn ! "" announced a servant from the 
 door. 
 
 The dinner was a success. Strode's spirits were 
 unquenchable ; Mrs. Maxtead excelled herself, spurred 
 to unusual height by the presence of the new guest ; 
 and Anna, from the moment of the first course, ate 
 and laughed and talked as if life held no other 
 obligation. 
 
 The food and wines were good. A heavy iron 
 lamp, hanging from the ceiling, cast a glow upon the 
 cloth, and a bank of scarlet flowers in the centre of 
 the table made a patch of colour. Everything sug- 
 gested brightness and light ; and the entree had 
 been served and removed before the first pause broke 
 the run of talk. The pause was momentary one 
 of those silences that no one feels and from which 
 conversation flowed on afresh, with fresh impetus ; 
 but short as was its duration, it was long enough 
 for one circumstance, long enough to give Anna's 
 imagination time to wake. When Doctor Penrhyn, 
 raising his head, turned to Mrs. Maxtead with a 
 new question, the girl's eyes were on the flowers by
 
 THE CIRCLE 169 
 
 her plate, her thoughts for the instant concentrated 
 on herself. 
 
 Never before had life moved with such precision ; 
 never till to-night had her heart throbbed so steadily, 
 her senses seemed so accurate, her comprehension so 
 clear. It was a conscious awakening, a fusion of 
 thoughts by which the heaven of which she had 
 spoken that afternoon became an attainable fact, 
 beckoning her with tangible hands. Six steps for- 
 ward, a jerk of the arm, and it seemed that the heavy 
 curtain would drop into its place, shutting out care 
 and the dun-coloured world, leaving her, and perhaps 
 one other, on the inner golden side. She looked up 
 suddenly and met Strode 1 * eyes. 
 
 A servant, bending over her shoulder, filled her 
 glass ; her gaze dropped to the wine with its cloud 
 of bubbles ; then Mrs. Maxtead's laugh and Mrs. 
 Maxtead's voice reached her across the table, bring- 
 ing back material things. 
 
 " Theories are very well," she was saying, " but one 
 can only theorise, after all." 
 
 " Don" 1 ! you think that that depends on the basis 
 of the theory ? M Penrhyn laid down his glass. 
 
 " Oh, I know all that." She waved her hand. 
 " Science should be the backbone of conjecture." 
 
 " Quite so." Penrhyn smiled. " But to return to 
 the starting of our argument. Genius is abnormal, 
 therefore I hold genius must act abnormally at 
 some period of its career. Don't you agree with 
 that, Strode?"
 
 170 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Strode was speaking to a servant. Anna looked 
 up interestedly. 
 
 " You think excessive brain means eccentricity ? " 
 she said. 
 
 "Not as you understand the word." He smiled 
 indulgently. " I don't mean that a genius must eat 
 like a savage or forget to wash. I believe that for 
 ten years, for twenty years, a genius may act like an 
 ordinary human being, but at the end of those years 
 I believe the abnormality would break out. 15 
 
 Anna laughed. " In what form ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, the form would depend upon chance. The 
 form of a crime, the form of an act of folly, any form 
 you like to name. But it 's only a theory, as Mrs. 
 Maxtead says ; you can refute it if you like." He 
 picked up his glass again. 
 
 " Hallo, Penrhyn ! Talking of geniuses in Mrs. 
 Maxtead's presence ? " Strode turned back to the 
 table with a laugh. " In town, they tell me that 
 she deals in them buys and sells them by the ton. 
 Ask her for her opinion, don't offer yours you Tl 
 find yourself in the wrong street." 
 
 Penrhyn's face expressed astonishment. He looked 
 from Mrs. Maxtead to Strode, from Strode back 
 again. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laughed. " You are unfair, Mau- 
 rice ; you know that I bar trade the moment I put 
 my foot on Cornish soil." 
 
 Penrhyn bent forward. "For the sake of the 
 theorists, Mrs. Maxtead."
 
 THE CIRCLE 111 
 
 " Just to score off the theorists." Strode laughed 
 again. 
 
 Anna fingered her glass; her eyes were on her 
 friend^s face. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead cast her one glance, swiftly satirical' 
 and reassuring, then she turned to Strode. 
 
 " When Doctor Penrhyn goes out to dinner, Mau- 
 rice, he leaves his medical appliances in the consult- 
 ing-room. I claim the same grace. Am I within 
 my rights, Doctor Penrhyn ? " She looked round 
 with a bright smile. 
 
 Penrhyn bowed solemnly and they all laughed. 
 For Anna, there was a moment of unaccountably 
 swift relief. Then, with a change of course, the talk 
 flowed on again into a new groove. 
 
 The rest of the dinner sped on very light wings ; 
 and when the end came, it was with a distinct sense 
 of well-being that they pushed back their chairs and 
 rose. A waft of air, faintly cool, met them at the 
 door of the drawing-room ; one of the long windows 
 stood ajar, and the fine scent of mignonette blew in, 
 mingled with sweet-briar. 
 
 Anna crossed directly to the window, and Strode 
 followed ; for a moment they stood silently looking 
 out. A hundred yards below the terrace they could 
 hear the sea pounding against the rocks ; near at 
 hand they could see the lawn with its glistening 
 moisture and plot of flowers ; half-way between the 
 two, they could follow the high-rose hedge, already 
 astar with buds. Presently, following a frank im- 
 pulse, Anna turned.
 
 172 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Does n't it seem a shame to leave it all in three 
 little miserable days ? " 
 
 " In three days ? But I thought " 
 
 She smiled. " So did I ; but Jeanne has arranged 
 differently. She told me this evening that we go 
 back to town on Thursday. Doesn't it sound 
 soon ? " 
 
 Strode said nothing. He was looking across the 
 lawn towards the cliff. 
 
 They heard Mrs. Maxtead laugh and Penrhyn 
 open the piano ; then very gently the notes of 
 Chopin's " Funeral March " poured across the room. 
 
 Strode looked round at Anna. " But you 11 come 
 back ? I '11 see you again ? " 
 
 Without looking at him she moved across the 
 room. " Jeanne," she said sharply, " why do you 
 play that ? You know that I hate it." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead stopped. " Doctor Penrhyn has 
 never buried anybody to it ; 1 was just showing him 
 how it went." She began a bar or two of Greig's 
 " Wedding March."" 
 
 Anna coloured and walked to the piano. " You 
 are incorrigible ! " She laid her hand on the other's 
 fingers. " Doctor Penrhyn, don't you think it \s 
 horrid of her to play of serious things like marrying 
 and dying, when we were all so gay ? " 
 
 Penrhyn looked across the room. " That de- 
 pends," he said dryly. "Our host might be con- 
 templating either one or the other judging by 
 looks.*
 
 THE CIRCLE 173 
 
 " Maurice ! " called Mrs. Maxtead, " your name is 
 being taken in vain ; come and defend it." She 
 began to play a minuet. 
 
 Strode moved his shoulders and laughed, then 
 slowly crossed the room. At the same moment a 
 servant entered with coffee, and as the man passed 
 him he took two cups from the tray and moved 
 towards Anna. 
 
 " Will you be out to-morrow morning ? " He 
 held out one cup. 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "Before breakfast?" 
 
 " Quite possibly." She took the cup. 
 
 " Then let me take you for a row ? The sea will 
 be as smooth as glass ; 1 11 have the boat under the 
 Cottage at eight. Just say you '11 come ? " His 
 voice was very low, but his eagerness was apparent 
 in every word. 
 
 An paused, then slightly, almost imperceptibly, 
 bent her head in assent. 
 
 " Thank you," he said below his breath ; then he 
 turned to the piano. 
 
 " Have we leave to smoke ? " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked up at him with her shrewd 
 eyes, then she looked down at the keyboard ; then, 
 without any obvious reason, she laughed softly to 
 herself.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER 
 
 1 
 
 waters of the creek shone green in 
 the morning light. Strode in a flannel 
 suit, with a pipe between his lips, leant 
 over the side of his boat and looked 
 down into the depths ; shorewards, the cliff cast 
 emerald shadows ; seaward, the sun made a network 
 of gold ; by his side a shelf of flat rocks with many 
 jagged points, many smoothed spaces and glimmering 
 pools, ran out into the sea. 
 
 It was a morning of shining stillness ; the scrape 
 of the moored boat came methodically, as each faint 
 swell caused her to brush the rocks; on the grey 
 shingle the imperceptible waves broke with a tiny 
 crash; and high above his head, from the barley 
 fields beyond the cliff, came the rise and drop of a 
 lark's song. 
 
 Anna, threading her way down the steep path, 
 halted in silent admiration ; the clearness of the 
 morning, the sharp-cut newness of the day broke 
 on her with sudden meaning ; she stopped and drew 
 in her breath. From her position on the cliff, 
 Strode's boat, lying under the shadow of the rocks, 
 was invisible. For a moment she wondered if it was 
 desecration to intrude on such a scene, then, smil-
 
 THE CIRCLE 175 
 
 ing at the thought, she went on again. The joy and 
 strength of life were in the air ; the sand of the path 
 rose about her feet in little clouds ; the light-tinted 
 poppies mauve and straw-colour and pink swept 
 her skirts as she passed; with every step her speed' 
 increased, till, turning a curve in the track, the 
 moored boat met her gaze and she stood still again, 
 smiling and flushed. 
 
 With the swiftness of her pause a handful of peb- 
 bles were unloosed and fell to the rocks in a little 
 shower. Strode looked up. 
 
 " One moment ! "" he called, as he raised his hat. 
 " Stay where you are."" He threw his pipe into the 
 bow and sprang ashore. Anna, on the path above, 
 watched the swinging ease with which he crossed the 
 rocks, and involuntarily the smile deepened round her 
 mouth. The sun was on his face as he neared her, and 
 in the critical light of the morning his tanned skin 
 looked as clear as a boy's, his grey eyes almost as frank. 
 
 " The nicest thing about you is your reliableness," 
 he said. " You keep a promise as if you were a man. 
 Is n't it a glorious day ? " He held out his hand. 
 
 She took it, and the strength of the fingers and 
 coolness of his skin struck her ; she looked down at 
 the hand and smiled. 
 
 " You Ve been in the sea." 
 
 " Yes, at six o'clock."" 
 
 They began to descend the cliff. 
 
 " Had you a good swim ? " 
 
 " Fine ! I pulled round to my special diving-
 
 176 THE CIRCLE 
 
 stone and had a glorious plunge. Look out. That's 
 a bad bit. But I Ve been home since then and have 
 brushed my hair, I would n't have dared meet you 
 otherwise." He laughed and took off his hat. 
 
 She looked at his well-smoothed hair. '* That was 
 very considerate of you." She smiled. 
 
 He looked at her seriously. "Do you find me 
 considerate ? " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " No special reason. I 'd like to seem a decent 
 sort of chap to you." 
 
 They were silent till the boat was reached. Anna 
 stepped in with due regard to balance ; then, before 
 taking her place in the stern, she lifted a cushion 
 and held it up. " Here is your witness," she said. 
 
 They both laughed, and Strode, setting the boat 
 adrift, jumped in ; a second later, the boat swung 
 slowly outward from the rocks. A dozen rapid 
 strokes sent them well into the open ; the cliff 
 receded, becoming a dark mass against the sky ; 
 the sea spread before them a lawn of enchanted 
 j?;reen. Anna leant back, the ropes of the rudder 
 held idly in her hands; to her ears, the click of 
 the oars in the rowlocks was like soothing music ; 
 the joy of motion ran tingling through her. It was 
 a full minute before she stirred or spoke ; even then 
 it was lazily, as one makes a forced concession. 
 
 " I want you to talk," she spoke without looking up. 
 
 Strode leant forward, resting on the oars. " Can 
 I choose the subject ? ""
 
 r lHE CIRCLE 17~ 
 
 She looked up swiftly, then immediately her 
 glance fell. " No," she said, " I ^11 choose that. Let 
 me see. Tell me about Canada again/ 1 
 
 For a second he sat very still, then he jerked his 
 hands and a shower of water beads scattered from the 
 blades of the oars. " I almost expected that," he said. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Why ? " He pulled three strokes. " Because 
 the last fortnight every time I 've tried to say any- 
 thing that I wanted to say, I Ve been shoved back on 
 Canada. I ""m about sick of Canada " He lifted 
 the oars again. 
 
 Anna looked down at the ropes, to hide the smile 
 behind her eyes. "That's very hard on you," she 
 said. 
 
 " Somewhat." He looked at her directly. " On 
 Friday I talked about ice-sailing till my throat 
 parched ; on Saturday you questioned me for an hour 
 on the relative hardness of hickory and ironwood ; on 
 Sunday " he stopped impressively " on Sunday 
 my tea got cold while I described the exact heat at 
 which copper can be extracted from its ores, and 
 after that Mi's. Max lead refused me another cup 
 until I 'd made a diagram of the first reverberatory 
 melting- furnace my uncle ever used. Do you wonder 
 that I Ve struck ? " 
 
 Anna raised her head. " Poor you ! " she said. 
 " And you were so nice and courteous and interesting 
 all the time." 
 
 Strode laughed. " And now you see the beast 
 IS
 
 178 THE CIRCLE 
 
 without his skin. Just admit that there are other 
 things in life beside mining and smelting and export- 
 ing ? " He leant across the oars. 
 
 Anna blushed suddenly. " Look ! " she said. 
 " We Ye drifting out to sea." 
 
 " I want an answer to my question." 
 
 " And I want to skirt the head, close in by the 
 land." 
 
 The boat spun round ; in twenty strokes they were 
 in shelter of the cliff, skimming slowly past the rocks. 
 
 " Now you Ve got your way, let me have mine ? 
 Just admit that there are other things ? " 
 
 Anna was silent ; she leant out and caught a strand 
 of seaweed dangling from a rock. 
 
 " Are n't there other things ? " 
 
 " I suppose there are. Is n't this a lovely brown ? * 
 She held the seaweed to the light. 
 
 Strode deliberately shipped the oars and let the 
 boat drift ; then he leant forward and took the sea- 
 weed from her hand. 
 
 Their eyes met. 
 
 " When the crew mutinies," she said, " it 's time 
 for the passenger to junjp ashore." She laughed a 
 little nervously, but there was an excited brightness 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Without changing his position, Strode threw the 
 seaweed overboard. " The passenger would only wet 
 her pretty frock," he said ; " she would n't alter the 
 inevitable by a pin's point." He looked at her 
 steadily.
 
 THE CIRCLE 179 
 
 Anna's fingers tightened again round the ropes. 
 She looked out across the sea over the spaces of 
 glassy green to the white horizon line. 
 
 Strode bent very near. With one hand he warded 
 the boat from the rocks, with the other he touched 
 her arm. 
 
 " There are times when a man seems a fool,"" he 
 said ; " the more he feels, the greater fool he seems. 
 I want you not to laugh. 11 
 
 Anna remained silent, but a mist either of sun 
 or tears crossed her eyes and shut away the sea. 
 
 His fingers moved down and touched her hand. 
 " I Ve cared for you since that first night in town. 
 Say, do I seem at all worth caring for ? " 
 
 There was no sound. So great was the quiet that 
 fifty yards above them they could hear a goat mov- 
 ing amongst the bracken on the cliff. 
 
 " Anna ? " 
 
 A puffin sailed round the stem of the boat, looked 
 up inquisitively at the silent figures, then dived 
 under the keel. 
 
 "Anna?" 
 
 At last Anna turned ; there was a light in her eyes 
 and her smile was very sweet. When she spoke 
 there was an echo of the old childish candour run- 
 ning through her voice. 
 
 "I think you are more worth caring for than any- 
 body in the world," she said simply ; and her warm 
 fingers closed round his.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MRS. MAXTEAD shook out the sheets 
 of her newspaper and skimmed the 
 paragraphs with a preoccupied glance ; 
 it was the " Morning Post " of the 
 day before, and stale news lacks piquancy. After a 
 five minutes 1 perusal she laid the paper down, and her 
 lingers strayed to the day's correspondence. There 
 were nine letters for her and fourteen for Anna 
 fourteen envelopes, mostly foreign and all much re- 
 addressed. She sorted them quickly, and leaning 
 across the table made a little heap beside the girl's 
 plate ; then she picked up a knife and opened her 
 own letters one by one. 
 
 The small round table had been drawn into the 
 sun ; bunches of mignonette rose cool and odorous 
 from green bowls ; the chintx-covered furniture and 
 muslin curtains shone in the light ; and through the 
 open French window the warm salt fragrance of 
 the sea drifted in across the lawn. The promise of 
 the day, that two hours before had lain coolly on the 
 waters, was already merging into hot fulfilment. In 
 Cornwall, summer sits luxuriously in the flower 
 fields, while in less favoured spots spring is still 
 trailing her skirts.
 
 THE CIRCLE 181 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead began one letter, passed on to a 
 second, picked up a third ; then the door opened and 
 the little Cornish maid entered, carrying a dish. 
 
 Her mistress looked up. " Don't uncover the 
 fish, Dolly, I 1 !! wait for five minutes more." Her 
 eyes returned to her letter, and the maid withdrew. 
 She read on to the third page, then again she raised 
 her eyes; there was a fresh interruption. A fresh 
 sound was borne across the lasvn ; the pleasantest 
 sound the world holds the sound of young voices 
 in the early air. She listened for a second, then she 
 did a considerate thing. Leaning across the table, 
 she reversed the top envelope of Anna's pile, When 
 the voices and laughter grew nearer, then altogether 
 ceased and two shadows fell across the sun, she was 
 looking up calmly with lifted brows. 
 
 " Maurice ! " she said in affected surprise. " Anna 
 I have seen before from my bedroom window ; but 
 Maurice " She looked with quizzical amusement 
 from one radiant face to the other. 
 
 Strode moved forward. " I just rowed over and 
 moored in the creek 
 
 "And Anna selected the rocks for a morning 
 walk ? What a delightful coincidence ! " 
 
 Anna stepped into the room ; her arms were full 
 of poppies, straw-coloured and pink, her light dress 
 was strewn with their petals ; her skin, darkened by 
 three weeks 1 sun, seemed to glow with colour and 
 life. " Feel these are n't they like silk ? " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead dusted the pollen from her cheek
 
 182 THE CIRCLE 
 
 and laughed. "Do you think I need drugging?" 
 She looked across at Strode. 
 
 He returned her glance humorously. "D'you 
 know," he said, "I've sometimes speculated on that 
 very score."" 
 
 Her eyes sparkled. " Speculation, my dear Mau- 
 rice, is another form of laziness. Come in and ring 
 the bell. Of course you'll stay to breakfast, now 
 that you are here ? " 
 
 " I wish I could."" His eyes sought Anna's, but 
 hers were on the flowers. 
 
 What prevents ? " 
 
 " Well, you see " HP passed his hand over his 
 hair. " Penrhyn stayed with me last night ; I sup- 
 pose hell want some food. It's a great bore, of 
 course " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead poured some cream into her cup. 
 " How inconsiderate of Penrhyn ! " She raised her 
 eyes. " Though somehow I look upon him leni- 
 ently ; I Ve been starving, myself, for half an hour." 
 
 Anna dropped her flowers. "Oh, Jeanne, how 
 abominable of me ! Let me make up ! " She lifted 
 the cover of the silver dish. 
 
 Strode stepped from the window and took up a plate. 
 
 " You should have seen the sea this morning, 
 Jeanne." Anna helped the fish quickly. " It was 
 pure glass like a magic mirror." 
 
 " The mirror of Shalot." Strode balanced the hot 
 plate. " It reflected all the things in life." 
 
 Anna coloured and hastily covered the dish. " It
 
 THE CIRCLE 183 
 
 was so still under the headland that we could hear a 
 goat cropping the grass, ever so high above." 
 
 " Fact, Mrs. Maxtead." Strode carried round the 
 plate and set it down. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked out across the lawn. " Poor 
 Doctor Penrhyn ! " she murmured below her breath. 
 
 Strode looked at his watch. " Yes ; I expect 
 one has obligations." He looked regretfully round. 
 " What a jolly room this is ! Got a sort of curved 
 effect " He stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked back into the room. " When 
 I stay with you, Maurice, you H arrange that we 
 breakfast independently, won't you ? It would be 
 guch a saving of time." 
 
 Strode laughed. " If Penrhyn has missed a meal, 
 he 's gained a champion. Good-bye.'"' He held out 
 his hand. 
 
 " Since when have we become ceremonious ? " she 
 said, ignoring the hand. 
 
 He turned to Anna. " Will you ? " 
 
 She extended her hand laughingly. " It 's right 
 to pity the rejected, is n't it ? " 
 
 Their fingers touched, and Strode's eyes fell on 
 her plate. 
 
 " What a lot of letters ! " 
 
 Involuntarily her free hand touched the top en- 
 velope. " What a lot of responsibilities ! " There 
 was a nervous note in her voice ; she raised her eyes 
 and met his straight glance. "We all have our 
 responsibilities. You have Doctor Penrhyn " 
 She laughed again.
 
 184 THE CIRCLE 
 
 The faint shadow of question left his face as 
 quickly as it had come. He pressed her hand. 
 " You should have none ; you were made to shift 
 your burdens on to someone else." 
 
 " Maurice ! " 
 
 " Not another word, Mrs. Maxtead ; I 'm off ! " 
 He crossed the room ; but at the French window he 
 turned back. 
 
 "Say, Mrs. Maxtead?' 1 
 
 She looked up. 
 
 " Penrhyn will be with me till evening ; we 11 be 
 boring each other to death by afternoon " 
 
 She raised her cup. " Doctor Penrhyn struck me 
 as being rather interesting," she remarked dryly. 
 
 Strode stepped back into the room. "Then ask 
 us> along to tea ?" 
 
 There was a long pause ; then Mrs. Maxtead 
 looked up with a whimsical expression. "Trans- 
 parent as you are, Maurice, you shut out the sun."" 
 
 Strode backed on to the lawn. " But the tea ? " 
 
 " Oh, if you want to come very badly, turn up at 
 five. 1 ' 
 
 " You're the rudest person created ; but we '11 come 
 at five." He looked towards Anna, but she had 
 picked up her flowers again ; with a laugh, he turned 
 towards the sea, and they heard him whistle as he 
 crossed the lawn. 
 
 After he had gone there was a momentous pause. 
 Anna arranged the poppies with undue attention to 
 their shades ; she felt her companion's eyes, like
 
 THE CIRCLE 185 
 
 humorously keen and searching lights ; she felt the 
 blood mount to her cheeks and her consciousness 
 tingle into her hands till her fingers stumbled ; then 
 at last, with a collapse of all resolve, she threw the 
 flowers in a heap on the table and looked up. 
 
 Well ? " she said. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's eyes wandered over her face. 
 " Is n't it I who should say that ? " She poured out 
 a cup of coffee and passed it across the table. 
 
 Anna sat down, drank a little, then fingered her 
 letters with unusual haste. 
 
 A smile passed over Mrs. Maxtead's face. " The 
 letters ran it rather close this morning, 11 she said; 
 " too close to be repeated. I 'd tell him to-day, if 
 I were you."" 
 
 Anna suddenly pushed her cup away and rose ; 
 there was colour and excitement in her face ; for a 
 moment it seemed that the emotions that underran 
 her nature would flood and overflow, but she checked 
 the outbreak ; her face was calm again, and she 
 walked round the table. 
 
 " I meant to tell him, Jeanne. Yesterday, when 
 you spoke about it, I made up my mind ; and last 
 night, when he asked me to come on the water this 
 morning, I agreed, because it seemed so excellent a 
 chance so excellent an opportunity." She paused. 
 
 " I understand. That was last night." 
 
 " No ; you Ye wrong. When I woke, the intention 
 was stronger than before. I rehearsed how I \1 put 
 the thing, all the way down the cliff."
 
 186 THE CIRCLE 
 
 "And got stage fright at the last moment." 
 
 Anna smiled. " Well, at first there was the sun 
 and the sea and the quickness of the boat, and I 
 could n't break in on them straight away ; afterwards, 
 under the cliff " She stopped again. 
 
 The other looked up keenly and quizzically. 
 " What happened under the cliff? 11 
 
 For a second the girl moved irresolutely; then 
 with a little rustle she dropped to her knees beside 
 her companion's chair, and looked up into her face. 
 
 " Under the cliff, Jeanne, it was impossible." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead bent an unusual impulse with 
 her. " And why, Anna ? " 
 
 Anna returned her gaze ; for a second the single- 
 ness of her soul showed like starlight in her eyes, 
 then her lashes fell. " Because he cares for me, 
 Jeanne, and I care for him and there was no room 
 for anything beside."" 
 
 An odd expression crossed the other's face an 
 expression fleeting as air, that was yet a shadow, a 
 faint reflection of a thought. She bent lower and 
 her lips parted, then suddenly she shrugged her 
 shoulders and sat upright. A second later she 
 laughed, her old casual laugh. 
 
 " My dear Anna, you have a wonderful power. 
 Another minute and I believe I should have cried. 
 Get up and ring for a new breakfast! As for 
 Maurice Strode I made up my mind ten months 
 ago that you and he should marry ; it took me four 
 years to find a genius, it has taken me eleven to
 
 THE CIRCLE 187 
 
 find an honest man." She shook out her skirts and 
 rose. 
 
 Anna stood up as well ; but she still held the 
 other's hand, and there were tears in her eyes. 
 
 " Jeanne " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead freed her hand and held it up. 
 " Don't ! " she said. " Blame is bracing, but 
 praise ** She never finished ; with a sudden hasty 
 movement she walked to the window and out across 
 the lawn.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER IX 
 
 MRS. MAXTEAD lay back in her long 
 deck-chair and held up her hand. 
 " What a day it has been ! Even the 
 dew is forgetting to fall ! "" 
 
 Penrhyn, from his camp stool, looked critically 
 towards the copper- tinted sky. " Storm to-morrow ! " 
 he said laconically, as he laid his empty cup on the 
 grass. 
 
 " What a prophet of evil ! " She smiled. 
 
 " Never mind Penrhyn, Mrs. Maxtead, he has a. 
 prophetic instinct for sulphurous smells. 11 Strode, 
 lying on the lawn, shifted his hat from his face and 
 laughed. 
 
 Anna lifted her head and unconsciously echoed the 
 laugh. She was standing by the tea-table, throwing 
 crumbs to the thrushes, as they hopped in and out 
 amongst the flower-beds. Her tall figure, in its soft 
 pink dress, was outlined against the whiteness of the 
 house ; her face looked very radiant and very young. 
 " What a lazy afternoon ! " she said. " We were 
 silent for five minutes till Jeanne spoke ; I counted, 
 as I fed the birds.' 1 
 
 " What a shameful waste of tin.e ! " Strode rose, 
 shaking some newly mown hay from his clothes. 
 "It's six o'clock; I propose a walk."
 
 THE CIRCLE 189 
 
 " A what, Maurice ? " Mrs. Maxtead sat up and 
 swept her parasol through a cloud of gnats. 
 
 " My dear Strode " Penrhyn took off his pan- 
 aina and fanned himself " there is no more ill- 
 considered act."" 
 
 " Rot ! " said Strode sharply. " There "s no more 
 sensible thing than a walk round the cliff before 
 dinner. Just round to your nook, Mrs. Maxtead, 
 and back again ? " 
 
 Anna moved round the table. "Do, Jeanne. 
 The cliff is so lovely and ghostly in the dusk." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead shut her parasol. " I detest psychi- 
 cal research. Beside, I have n't got my hat. " 
 
 " 1 11 fetch the hat, Mrs. Maxtead." 
 
 " My dear Maurice, you would be sure to bring an 
 unbecoming one. If you want a walk, why not take 
 Anna ? Doctor Penrhyn and I have outgrown the 
 fascination of getting lost in the dark. Let us stay 
 where we are ; there 's a new embalming process 
 that I want badly to discuss." Her eyes gleamed 
 ironically. 
 
 Strode laughed. " We are taught not to be im* 
 portunate," he said. "Of course, if you prefer 
 mummies to " 
 
 " Moonshine. Quite right, Maurice ! " Her voice 
 was keen and amused. " Take care of Anna, and 
 have her back by eight." 
 
 Strode turned to Anna. "The powers are de- 
 cisive," he said ; " what are we to do ? " His tone 
 was light, but his eyes pleaded.
 
 190 THE CIRCLE 
 
 She looked at him for an instant ; then her glance 
 met Mrs. Maxtead's, and she smiled. " Bow to the 
 inevitable, I suppose/ 1 
 
 Strode smiled his gratitude ana a moment later 
 the two crossed the lawn. They walked quickly, as 
 only the very young and the very happy walk ; their 
 forms were silhouetted straight and clear against the 
 orange sky ; and as they turned to the right, and 
 the white gate swung to behind them, Strode's care- 
 less laugh floated back across the quiet. Mrs. Max- 
 tead sighed, then moved restlessly. 
 
 " Doctor Penrhyn," she said, " there is one gulf 
 you scientists will never bridge ; one thing you will 
 never give us back." 
 
 Penrhyn leant forward. " And that ? " he asked. 
 
 " Is our youth- 1 ' She closed her eyes. 
 
 The track round the headland had darkened to 
 purple against the green of the bracken ; above the 
 waters the coming dusk had gathered in a cloud ; 
 against a metallic sky a band of rooks drew slowly 
 homeward with a flap of heavy wings and an occa- 
 sional raw cry ; in the distance, a cow lowed with 
 gentle persistence. The whole of nature seemed 
 drowsy with coming sleep. 
 
 Anna looked up at Strode. " Do you ever feel," 
 she said, "that there are times when one is too 
 happy when everything is so still that one waits 
 for and dreads a break ? " 
 
 For answer, he bent and kissed her, " Dearest, 11
 
 THE CIRCLE 191 
 
 he said quietly, *' when two people suddenly find 
 their hands full of happiness, they don't look away 
 for suppositions ; they want their thoughts for some- 
 thing nearer home." 
 
 They walked on again, and involuntarily she 
 closed her eyes ; there was deep safety and protec- 
 tion in the clasp of his fingers about her hand She 
 put her next question in a reluctant voice. 
 
 " Maurice, have you ever had anything on your 
 mind?" 
 
 He looked at her humorously. " Of course." 
 He laughed. " Debts and duty and heaps of things. 
 But why ? " 
 
 " Because " she moved her fingers restlessly 
 in his, then looked quickly up " because I hav e 
 something on mine something I want to say." 
 
 " Something serious ? " He gazed directly out 
 across the sea. 
 
 " Something quite serious." 
 
 "Then I won't hear it." He looked round. 
 " There is only one serious thing that I '11 listen to 
 to-night, and that I've already heard." He lifted 
 her hand and held it against his lips. His manner 
 was quiet, but there was a reliant intonation in his 
 voice. 
 
 She looked up again with swift appreciation. 
 " Maurice, I Ve always said you would be good at 
 understanding. Was I right ? " 
 
 He thought for a moment without replying ; then 
 he glanced down at her with an amused smile. " I
 
 192 THE CIRCLE 
 
 expect that depends,"" he said. "I have been 
 called obstinate and prejudiced and a lot of other 
 unpleasant things; but I think I could be very 
 lenient to you." 
 
 " This thing of mine " Her fingers moved un- 
 easily again. " It 's so little and yet so big ; I 
 want to say it and I can't say it. What must I 
 do?" She laughed. 
 
 Walking quickly, they had turned the first bend 
 of the cliff, and the full majesty of the sea spread 
 before them ; above, crowning the headland, stood 
 three trees, whipped into fantastic shapes by re- 
 current gales ; and below, sharp against the water, 
 rose the pointed rock that marked Mrs. Maxtead's 
 nook. Anna looked towards the horizon, then back 
 to the path stretching in a dark ribbon from their 
 feet. 
 
 " What am I to do ? " she said again. 
 
 For a full minute Strode was silent, then quite 
 abruptly he stood still. 
 
 " I told you that I Ve been called obstinate," he 
 said, " but no one has ever called me inquisitive. 
 I care for you beyond anything in the world, 
 which means I believe in you beyond am thing in 
 the world. I don't want to hear your secret, but if 
 it worries you, have it out. Have it out, and let \s 
 forget it ! I give you to the nook to screw u p your 
 courage."" He laughed again, and in the fading 
 daylight his eyes looked very clear. 
 
 Anna drew a great sigh of satisfaction. " You
 
 THE CIRCLE 193 
 
 are as sensible as Jeanne," she said, " and as good 
 as a light. I so often feel stupid in the dusk." 
 
 They walked on, in silence and close together, till 
 the rocks were reached. There Anna drew away. 
 
 ** Look," she cried, " there 's a star at the horizon 
 and another and another " Her eyes swept 
 the sky. " Oh, Maurice, how good the world is ! 
 All ray silly dread is gone." Her voice was clear 
 and reassured again. She stepped back to him and 
 touched his hand. 
 
 " And the secret ? " He laughed. 
 
 " Oh, you shall hear it when we are sitting com- 
 fortably in the rocks where you cannot see my 
 face." * 
 
 " Is it as terrible as that ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is momentous." She laughed. " You go 
 first ; I get on best without any help." A sudden 
 weight seemed lifted from her ; she threw back her 
 head and breathed in the salt warm air. Then she 
 stooped and picked a handful of dog-roses that 
 gleamed white in the partial gloom. 
 
 " Maurice ! * 
 
 "Dearest?" Strode looked up from the second 
 ledge of rock. 
 
 " Are these roses pink or white ? " She leant down 
 and held the flowers at arm's length. 
 
 He caught her fingers. " Pink of course next to 
 your hand." 
 
 They both laughed. 
 
 "Is it safe to jump?" She leant farther out. 
 13
 
 194 THE CIRCLE 
 
 There was a delicious sense of danger in the dusk of 
 the sharp descent. 
 
 Strode held up his arms. " Quite safe like this ! " 
 
 He held her for a moment closely ; then they both 
 stood flushed and laughing on the little rock-bound 
 plateau. 
 
 Anna felt her hat, then began to twist the rose- 
 stalks into a bunch. 
 
 " May I have one ? " 
 
 She raised her eyes. " Can I spare one ? " 
 
 " You have too many good things already." 
 
 She smiled, and slowly detached two buds. " Have 
 you a pin ? " 
 
 He searched the lapel of his coat. " No ; won't it 
 do without ? " 
 
 " Of course not. You M lose one bud, and the 
 other would feel so small, all alone in the world. 
 Perhaps this will do ?" She put her hand to her 
 belt and drew out a pearl-headed pin. " Now stand 
 quite still." 
 
 He obeyed and the roses were arranged. She took 
 a step back and surveyed the effect. " That 's quite 
 nice, but you must give me something in exchange for 
 the pin ; pins are unlucky, you know." 
 
 " So they are. Just a second ! " He searched 
 one pocket, then another ; then he looked up with 
 whimsical distress. " By Jove ! " he said, " Penryhn 
 has cleaned me out at piquet. There is n't a six- 
 pence left." 
 
 Involuntarily she laughed. " A penny, then."
 
 THE CIRCLE 195 
 
 " I scattered my coppers among the urchins, as we 
 came to tea. What are we to do ? " 
 
 She laughed again. " Give me back my pin." 
 
 He looked up. " Your first present ? Not quite." 
 He recommenced his search ; then suddenly his face 
 cleared. " By Jove ! " he said again ; and with a jerk 
 he pulled out his watch. 
 
 Anna came nearer. 
 
 " This is a coin with a history or rather, the 
 coin of a man with a history." His fingers were busy 
 on a little ring. " I would n't part with it to anyone 
 but you I would n't really; I must tell you its story 
 some day, when you Ve got time to listen." With a 
 twist the ring opened and he held out the coin a 
 copper coin that showed dully in the twilight. 
 
 Anna took it and held it up. " This is valuable,"" 
 she said interestedly. "It belongs to the Greek 
 Imperial coinage." She scanned the rude religious 
 rite that the coin portrayed. 
 
 He looked at her with sudden admiration. " One 
 is always finding new things in you. I did n't know 
 you cared for coins and things like that." 
 
 She blushed. " I understand them a little 
 coins and manuscript." She drew away from him, and 
 settled herself hastily in Mrs. Maxtead's favourite 
 seat, making a place for Strode at her feet. 
 
 He dropped into the appointed place and sat 
 silent for a while ; then he looked up. " Now what 
 about the wonderful secret ? " He took off his hat 
 and laid it on the jjrass.
 
 196 THE CIRCLE 
 
 She stooped forward and touched his haix 
 " When we get back," she said softly. 
 
 " Come, you 're shirking the compact." 
 
 " Maurice " 
 
 " No excuses." He smiled and felt for her hand. 
 
 She looked at the rocks, then at the sea ; then 
 she closed her eyes in dreamy pleasure. 
 
 " Maurice, let 's make a bargain ? v 
 
 He looked up at her. " A deal ? " He raised his 
 eyebrows. 
 
 She opened her eyes lazily and smiled. Something 
 of the coming warmth and darkness of the night 
 were shadowed in her face. " Yes. Tell me your 
 story now, and I '11 tell mine afterwards. It is the 
 very hour for a romance." 
 
 Strode raised himself. " But, my dear child, 
 'twould take an hour." 
 
 " I 'd like it to take two. Be nice, Maurice, and 
 give me my way." 
 
 " You won't like it ; it 's a sad story." 
 
 She leant forward gently and laid her hand in his. 
 
 "When one is very happy, Maurice, one likes to 
 hear of other people's sadness ; it makes one appre- 
 ciate." 
 
 Strode sank back. 
 
 ** You 're a regular tyrant," he said ; " but I sup- 
 pose the atmosphere is in league with you ; no one 
 would have the physical energy to resist anything 
 to-night. May I light my pipe?"
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER X 
 
 1 
 
 was an interval of silence while 
 Strode pulled at his pipe. To Anna, 
 waiting in lazy contentment, the faint 
 curl of smoke and the dull glow of the 
 smouldering tobacco a red disc against the par- 
 tial gloom gave a sense of peace ; they seemed to 
 presage many such scenes, many such hours, and 
 with a wide sense of thankfulness she let her eyes 
 close again. 
 
 "I'll begin in the orthodox way. It was five 
 years ago " 
 
 Anna smiled and nestled back against the rock. 
 " How perfect ! I sha'n't even interrupt with * yes ' 
 or no.' " 
 
 " It was five years ago on my second visit home ; 
 when I was twenty-three." 
 
 " It is n't a love story, Maurice ? " 
 
 ** Not of my making. But I thought you were n't 
 going to interrupt." 
 
 She laughed happily. " Go on." 
 
 He smoked jilently for a moment ; then looked 
 up. " By the way, Anna, you won't laugh if I get 
 serious at the end ? I 'm not a sentimental chap, 
 but the tale caught me in a solemn mood. It worked
 
 198 THE CIRCLE 
 
 on me at the time; it's made sort of echoes ever 
 since. Promise you won't laugh ? " 
 
 She put out her hand and touched his hair. 
 " What do you think ? " 
 
 " Well, then, it began in an uncommon way." 
 He settled himself more comfortably. " It was my 
 first day in London ; I possessed no club then, and 
 the few people I knew were out of town. I was in 
 the dull position of an absolutely aimless being, 
 when, strolling down the Strand, I ran against a 
 man I knew." He took his pipe from between b* 
 teeth. " He was a man I had met on shipboard 
 Lorrison by name ; a man who always sat wrapped 
 in a shawl, with a cap pulled over his eyes, and a 
 pile of books at his feet. He was not the precise 
 companion I 'd have chosen, but I believe I 'd have 
 shaken hands with the devil himself on that particu- 
 lar day. I asked him what he had in view, and he 
 told me he was bound for some benighted shop in 
 some benighted slum, on a hunt for Merovingian 
 manuscript. "T was rather Greek to me ; but I said 
 that if he did n't mind, I 'd hail a hansom and come 
 along. He had no objection. I hailed the cab and 
 we got inside. It was a dreary morning and the 
 drive was n't stimulating, all smell and slum and fog. 
 I '11 leave the details out. It 's enough to say that 
 we arrived, left the hansom in a thoroughfare, and 
 walked down a narrow street Hang this pipe ! 
 It 's actually gone out At the left-hand side of the 
 street was a shop. Ah, that 's better." He struck
 
 THE CIRCLE 199 
 
 a match, re-lit the pipe, and drew in a long breath 
 ot smoke. 
 
 " The shop was very low -ceiled, very musty 
 quite romantically musty and on that particular 
 morning very dark. As we entered, I remember, 
 all the light there was seemed concentrated in a 
 glass partition that shut off a little desk. Sitting 
 at the desk in a huddled-up sort of way, was 
 the oddest figure Hallo ! What?s that ? " 
 
 " Only the coin. The coin slipped." Anna bent 
 and thrust her fingers shakingly between the crevices 
 of the rocks. 
 
 " One minute ! I H strike a light ! " He struck 
 a fresh match, and the girl put up her hand. 
 
 " The glare hurts your eyes ? " 
 
 A little. Please go on." 
 
 " Well, inside the glass partition, as I tell you, 
 was the oddest figure I had ever seen. It looked 
 the very picture of desolation, the extremes of 
 loneliness and isolation wrapped in one. It seemed 
 to stare out of the gloom like a fact that 's sud- 
 denly forced home. It 's five years ago, but 1 11 
 never forget it ; I remember it as plain as I re- 
 member yesterday." He waved the match to and 
 fro as he searched. " The man was deformed, but 
 somehow it wasn't his deformity it was his atti- 
 tude, his expression, the air he breathed. I tell 
 you, commonplace beggar that I am, I felt his 
 tragedy before I'd been five minutes in the place. 
 Hallo, there 's the coin ! Between that anemone
 
 200 THE CIRCLE 
 
 tuft and your dress." Anna moved stiffly, and he 
 picked it up. 
 
 " Won't you take it ? " He held it out. 
 
 She half stretched out her hand ; then, with an 
 unconquerable repugnance, drew it back again. 
 " Keep it for the present ; it might slip again." 
 She spoke slowly, but her voice was in excellent 
 control. 
 
 Strode dropped the coin into his pocket. " Well, 
 to go on. Lorrison nodded to the man, and asked 
 after his master ; but the fellow, instead of answer- 
 ing, began to talk of books. I put him down as 
 morbidly reticent then and there. For half an 
 hour he and Lorrison talked, while I leant against 
 the counter and just watched. Now inaction is 
 very unpleasant to me ; but I found that watching 
 the most engrossing thing I 'd ever done. The man 
 gripped me literally gripped me." 
 
 He stopped to rest, and Anna leant back against 
 the rock. For the moment she was entirely numb. 
 What she had felt in any past hour was chaos ; 
 what she might feel in any hour to come was 
 blank. She passed her hand slowly along the cold- 
 ness of the rock, and it seemed that her blood was 
 of the same temperature. But it is an odd truth 
 that one seldom meets the astounding facts of life 
 with any great display. When Strode's voice 
 broke in again, her nerves scarcely experienced a 
 jar. 
 
 " When we left the shop," he said, " I questioned
 
 THE CIRCLE 201 
 
 Lorrison, but his answers were unsatisfying. Dur- 
 ing the drive west he talked of nothing but a treas- 
 ure he had secured, and we parted at his hotel. 
 The next day I left town and came down here." 
 He stopped ; waited for a while in silence ; then 
 took up his story again. 
 
 " It was two months before I saw either the man 
 or the shop again. Then shipping business con- 
 nected with my uncle's mines brought me back to 
 London and down to the docks. The docks re- 
 minded me of Lorrison and his curio shop. I told 
 you it lay away down southeast, did n't I ? Well, 
 on my way home I strolled through the narrow street 
 and dropped in on the rum man. I talked to him 
 for half an hour, but I left with nothing beyond a 
 feeling of interest and the coin I Ve given you 
 to-night. He stayed an enigma : very gentle, very 
 courteous, but as secretive as the Sphinx." Strode 
 stopped again, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. 
 
 " Well, business brought me to the docks again, 
 and interest brought me to the curio shop. I 
 made up my mind to know that man against his 
 will : I made it a point of honour to myself. I 
 won't tell you how many times I tried and how 
 many I failed. 1 11 go right on to the night things 
 fell out straight. Chance delayed me in a man's 
 office until six. In October the dusk has begun to 
 fall at six, and 't was dark as I walked up Felt 
 Street the street where the shop stands. The 
 shutter* had been put up and the place closed for
 
 202 THE CIRCLE 
 
 the night, and precisely as I passed the door it 
 opened and my odd friend came out. I spoke to 
 him, and he shied away from me like a frightened 
 horse ; then he saw my face by a gas-lamp and a 
 look of recognition" crossed his eyes a look that 
 was almost a craving for sympathy, it seemed to me. 
 Without his leave I joined him, and we walked down 
 the street side by side. He led me by a hundred 
 little by-ways and cross-streets down to the wharves 
 his usual walking-place. And there, in the midst 
 of a network of bales and barrels, with the ships 
 looming huge in the partial dark, the mesh of masts 
 and rigging cut against the sky, we walked for two 
 hours. The filth of the town came to us mixed with 
 the tar of the sea ; the fires of the late workmen 
 flared up at intervals of smoky gloom. The scene 
 was weird, but in the whole odd medley my com- 
 panion was the weirdest object of all, his pale 
 face sometimes in shadow, sometimes lit up ; his 
 deformed body sharp and plain at one moment, vague 
 and indistinct the next. It was a queer experience : 
 if I was interested before, I was twenty times more 
 interested then. I set myself to draw him out with 
 all the persistence I possessed. I walked with him 
 up and down. I worked on him, hung back, urged 
 him on/ 1 Strode paused. His tobacco-pouch was 
 held between his hands. " I had made up my mind 
 to get at the man's story, Anna, and I won ! " In 
 his voice there was the alert tone, the assurance that 
 characterised his whole being. He leant back and
 
 THE CIRCLE 203 
 
 looked up into the girl's face. But the night had 
 fallen between them like a veil. His glance failed 
 to reach her, though his tone did not. 
 
 A shudder ran through her to her feet and finger- 
 tips. She closed her eyes, as one closes them before 
 a precipice ; her brain swung round as it might on a 
 giddy height. She had never fainted in her life, but 
 she found herself wondering, in an impersonal way, 
 what the sensation might be like. 
 
 " And I won, Anna ! I won ! " 
 
 Her lips formed some word, she was uncertain 
 what. Only an inarticulate sound escaped them. 
 Then she bent forward in sudden fear that he had 
 noticed, and touched his hand. 
 
 He caught her fingers. " Sweetheart, what a per- 
 fect listener you make!"" She withdrew her hand 
 softly, and he meditatively refilled his pipe. He had 
 the air of a man who has settled down to the telling 
 of a yarn. Visions of night excursions in the Cana- 
 dian forests, of lying round a fire in the vast solitude 
 while men talked or listened in the easy freedom that 
 the dark engenders, floated round him in lazy peace. 
 " You are as good a comrade as a man,"" he said at 
 length. Then he struck a match. 
 
 Anna's faculties were numbed, but her fear was 
 still astir. The throbbing of her heart frightened 
 her by its irregularity ; the tingling sensation crept 
 from her fingers to her wrists. At last panic seized 
 her and she sat up. " Maurice," she said, "I am so 
 curious. Please go on straight on to the point"
 
 204 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Strode pulled gently at his newly-lit pipe. ** Of 
 course," he said, " it 's the story of a woman." 
 
 "Why of course 1 ?" 
 
 "Because woman is the big jump over which so 
 many of us get smashed up." He laughed. " No, 
 dearest ! Seriously, it was the blankest case of cal- 
 lousness on a woman's part, the hardest breaking-up 
 of a decent life that I Ve met with. I shaVt tell 
 the tale as the poor beggar told it me. There were 
 too many halts and stops. I '11 tell it straight, clean 
 through, as you '11 understand it best. 
 
 " It seems that his coming to this shop in the first 
 instance savoured of romance. He made a wild story 
 of a winter night, a robbery, and a pursuing crowd, 
 from which he was saved by the daughter of the 
 house a girl of sixteen. The rescue itself pos- 
 sessed unusual elements. The picture was so sharply 
 impressed on the poor chap's brain that it even 
 roused me to some enthusiasm at the time. But 
 the enthusiasm evaporated very soon. A woman 
 who shows up fine in a dramatic moment and can 
 be meanly selfish on second thoughts is hardly rare. 
 You know the type ? " 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "Yes, I know the type," Anna answered dully. 
 Her eyes were on the red circle of the pipe. 
 
 " Well, they took him in the girl and her 
 father, an eccentric old Russian Jew and for a 
 bit things went all right. Then the inevitable came. 
 The life was lonely. The rescued man was keenly
 
 THE CIRCLE 205 
 
 susceptible. The girl had uncommon charm. The in- 
 evitable came. He fell desperately, lastingly in love." 
 
 Anna put up her hand and touched her forehead ; 
 little tendrils of hair clung damply to it ; her skin 
 was rigidly cold. " Go on," she said again. 
 
 " The whole thing was pitiful pitiful to the last 
 degree. The way he talked of that girl, worshipped 
 her, sort of built a halo round her, was heart-rend- 
 ing. I never saw such blind devotion to a human 
 being. ' She was like the sun ! ' He repeated that 
 over and over again. ' She was like the sun ! ' She 
 could do nothing that was wrong." 
 
 " Well ? " Anna moistened her lips. 
 
 " Well, the end was the common one ; you 've 
 guessed it of course. The girl got a glimpse of life, 
 and, after the way of her kind, it dazzled her. One 
 morning when he came downstairs she was gone : 
 he found an open door. Just for a minute he saw 
 nothing else. It was, as he said himself, as if life 
 had snapped in two ; there was nothing anywhere 
 but empty space. He rushed out into the street ; 
 then he stopped. Poor brute ! I can see him stop. 
 He remembered the father the solitary old Russian 
 who had lost home and health and wife in the Jew- 
 ish persecutions, and who was living in a sort of 
 patched-up after-peace among his books. I can see 
 him stop, as the thought caught him ; 't was his por- 
 tion to break the news to the father." 
 
 Strode stopped, and Anna sat quite still. 
 
 " He stopped, as I tell you ; then he turned and
 
 206 THE CIRCLE 
 
 walked back into the shop. The man admits 
 to being a physical coward yet he turned and 
 walked back into the shop. I would n't have been 
 in his place for a thousand pounds."" He stopped 
 again. 
 
 Anna clasped her hands. With the agonies of 
 birth, the old life, the old obligations were goading 
 themselves into being ; her breath caught in her 
 throat ; the silent oppression of the night hung 
 upon her, held her, pressed her down. 
 
 "Some men sort of live in a dream," Strode said. 
 " This old Russian had been living in a dream. He 
 escaped the persecutions with his reason just 
 grazed the narrow line that turns the brain. But 
 on that morning " His pipe had died low 
 again ; he paused to pull it to a glow. " On that 
 morning " 
 
 A wave of expectancy, sick and deadly, shook 
 Anna; her fingers dropped nervelessly apart. 
 
 '' On that morning the extra line was drawn. It 
 seems that behind an indifferent exterior this one 
 child was the light of his eyes. It took a long 
 time to make him understand; when he did under- 
 stand " 
 
 " His brain gave way." With sweeping certainty 
 the words left Anna's lips, but so low, so horror- 
 stricken, that their intonation was almost lost. 
 
 " Exactly. The shock turned his brain. He \ 
 quite harmless, I believe quite like a child; but 
 he 11 never see his shop again, and he has forgotten
 
 THE CIRCLE 207 
 
 how to read. He sits all day talking to his wife 
 and child." Strode paused again, and the silence 
 hung palpably on the air. 
 
 Anna did not move, but the tension of her throat 
 never relaxed. The necessity of coolness passed and 
 repassed through her mind with the method of a 
 machine, and she clung to it with the desperate 
 primary instinct of defence. 
 
 " Did the girl leave no message ? " she asked at 
 length. 
 
 " Oh yes, she did ; to my mind that was her 
 worst act. Two days after she had gone, when the 
 poor beggar I Ve been telling you of was trying to 
 patch things together with the common remedy of 
 routine, he found a message scrawled on the shop 
 slate. There you have the real woman of the type ; 
 afraid to strike a decent final blow, she threw a 
 straw to a drowning man. That was eight years 
 ago. Incredible as it sounds, that man is still cling- 
 ing to the straw. I can see his face as he turned in 
 the glow of the fire and told me so. 11 
 
 Anna stirred. " But the girl, Maurice the 
 girl ? What could a child of sixteen know or 
 guess or dream of such results ? I think you 
 are unjust. "" 
 
 He looked up, trying to see her face. " It is n't 
 the girl of sixteen that I blame,"" he said, " but the 
 girl of twenty of twenty-one of twenty-two. 
 U 1 you mean to say that the facts of life die out of 
 their own accord ? that to a bright gifted woman
 
 208 THE CIRCLE 
 
 they would n't come back again and again, in a new 
 guise, with a new force ? Don't you think that the 
 poor souls she had deserted would haunt her, unless 
 of her own deliberate will she shut them out ? '" He 
 laid down his pipe. 
 
 Anna's soul failed, but she made a last stand. 
 
 " You only know the man, Maurice,"" she said 
 desperately. " You only think of the man ; you are 
 a man yourself. You know nothing of the girl ; 
 she may have gone under long ago ; she may have 
 died " 
 
 " Ah, so I often thought ; so I thought till one 
 day three years ago, when, being in town, I strolled 
 into the shop and found the poor beggar there 
 curiously disturbed. He had obtained news of her 
 after five years."" 
 
 " News ! " 
 
 " Yes the oddest news. In passing by a win- 
 dow where photographs are sold he had stopped 
 for a minute, attracted by the crowd ; and there, 
 in the place of prominence, was the picture of a 
 very beautiful and distinguished woman. Of course 
 you Ve guessed. The woman was the girl ; but 
 she was something more than just beautiful 
 she was a celebrity. Who d'you think she was?" 
 He turned again eagerly. " Anna, guess who she 
 was?" 
 
 Anna's lips were so dry that they hardly moved. 
 " How should I know, Maurice ? How could I 
 know ? "
 
 THE CIRCLE 209 
 
 " Of course you could n't ; but prepare for a big 
 surprise. She was Solny the actress ! The actress 
 who made such a hit in Paris a couple of seasons 
 back ; the woman who 's coming to London this 
 year, and who 's going to storm creation, according 
 to the people who know. You 've seen her abroad, 
 of course ; I have not. But then I 've lived a step or 
 two behind events ; but even to me her name is as 
 familiar as my own. Does n't it sound incredible ? 
 Just think of it ! Does n't it sound incredible ? This 
 woman on the right side of the world, without a 
 wish that she can't gratify ; and down in the slummy 
 southeast the old father dragging out the worst sort 
 of existence ; the man who cares for her working 
 day after day in a musty little shop, and thinking 
 that there 's nothing better in life than to pray to 
 her as if she were a saint. Does n't it sound beyond 
 belief?" 
 
 Anna put her fingers over her ears. "Stop, 
 Maurice ! It 's horrible." Her voice shuddered 
 through the dusk. 
 
 " Yes. That 's about the word. I Ve never seen 
 the woman never even seen her photograph, but 
 the thought of her makes me sick. A sin of impulse 
 one can forgive, but cool considered selfishness is a 
 brand." 
 
 "Yes. A brand." Anna slowly reiterated the 
 words, then she rose. Her head felt light ; she 
 Bested her shoulder against the rock. For the mo- 
 Rent a great thankfulness for the dark was her 
 14
 
 210 THE CIRCLE 
 
 prominent thought a great enveloping relief that 
 her face could not be seen. 
 
 At her first movement Strode turned round ; his 
 eyes narrowed as he tried to trace her features ; then 
 he smiled. " Have I tired you, dear ? " The hard- 
 ness dropped out of his voice ; he put out his hand 
 and touched her dress. " I have tired you, and you 
 are cold. What a brute I Ve been ! " He rose as 
 well and took her hand. " Kiss me, and we '11 forget 
 it all. Here's your little coin." He felt in his 
 pocket, then held out his hand. 
 
 For a minute Anna peered through the gloom ; 
 then the wave of repulsion swept over her again, 
 and she pushed his hand aside. "No," she said 
 suddenly, " it 's ill-omened, ill-fated, Maurice. Take 
 it away ! " 
 
 Very quietly he slipped the coin back. " Forgive 
 me, dear, for telling such a tale in such a place." 
 With great gentleness he moved forward and took 
 her in his arms. " Poor little girl ! " he said. " Poor 
 little girl ! What inconsiderate beasts men are ! " 
 
 Overhead the warm darkness had massed to clouds ; 
 their faces were pale outlines to each other's eyes. 
 For a space Anna remained motionless, her shoulder 
 resting against his arm, her head thrown back ; then 
 suddenly she stirred and clung to him. 
 
 " Maurice," she said, " tell me exactly what I 
 seem to you exactly. We Ve been wandering in 
 such a wilderness : I want to feel love again." 
 
 Strode held her to him for an instant. " You
 
 THE CIRCLE 211 
 
 seem the best and the loveliest woman God ever 
 made," he said. " The very loveliest and the 
 very best."" 
 
 She closed her eyes. " Ah," she said lingeringly, 
 " that was very sweet. Now let us go home."
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER XI 
 
 Y ~^HE hall of the Cottage was dimly lighted 
 
 when they returned. The shadow of a 
 
 smile wavered across Anna's lips as she 
 
 ^ realised the circumstance. Fate is never 
 
 without its oddly ironic compensations. At the 
 
 door of the drawing-room she held out her hand. 
 
 " I '11 say good-bye here, Maurice. Doctor Pen- 
 rhyn's storm is in the air. I must bathe my head 
 before dinner ; it aches badly. 1 " 
 
 " Poor little girl ! " Strode raised her face and 
 looked into it. " I don't quite believe all that ; it 's 
 my wretched story that 's got clean on your nerves." 
 
 She tried to smile. " We '11 call it nerves ; nerves 
 is such a useful word. But don't worry, 1 11 be all 
 right once the storm breaks. Say good-night for 
 me to Doctor Penrhyn." 
 
 " It 's hard to let you go." 
 
 " It 's harder to go." Her voice sounded tired. 
 
 He passed his fingers over her hair. " I feel a 
 brute to keep you here, yet I can't say go. When 
 shall I see you to-morrow?" 
 
 " Oh, any time ; after breakfast any time. 
 Good-night ! " She touched his hand remindingly. 
 
 " You '11 be glad to see me ? "
 
 THE CIRCLE 213 
 
 .^ She drew away from him suddenly and 
 walked down the corridor. At the door of her bed- 
 room she paused and looked back. He had moved 
 a step or two in her direction, and was standing 
 directly under the hanging lamp ; the light, falling 
 on his smooth hair, turned it fair. She drew a quick 
 breath, then turned and ran back to him. 
 
 " Maurice ! " she said. " Maurice ! " 
 
 He caught her in his arms and held her closely. 
 " Dearest ! What is it, little one ? " 
 . She clung to him silently. The stillness of the 
 night and its oppression seemed to brood over the 
 house. Her hands clasped his shoulders, her heart 
 beat unsteadily. " Maurice, I care for you more 
 than you guess or dream I love you very much."" 
 The pressure of her fingers tightened ; then with a 
 little shiver she drew away and looked nervously 
 round. A blue flash glimmered and brushed her 
 eyes ; almost simultaneously the first peal of thunder 
 rolled across the sky. 
 
 She laughed unsteadily, and Strode drew her close 
 to him again. 
 
 " Afraid ? " 
 
 " Not afraid; but it jars one through and through. 
 Can't you feel it jar ? It seems to have such scope 
 out here by the sea. Maurice, say that you care for 
 me just once more." 
 
 Another faint flash crossed the hall ; as Strode 
 bent to reply, a second peal, more sombre than the 
 first, broke above their heads.
 
 214 THE CIRCLE 
 
 For an instant their lips held each other, then 
 Anna pushed him away. " You must get home," 
 she said quickly ; " you must get home before the 
 rain breaks. Good-night! Think always always, 
 Maurice, that I love you a million times more than 
 myself. If I seem strange to-night it 's the electricity 
 in the air. Good- night ! " Her voice broke off short ; 
 she freed herself, and ran down the corridor. 
 
 Strode moved forward. " Anna ! " he called softly. 
 But the only answer that came to him was the sharp 
 closing of a door, and the turning of a key in a lock. 
 He waited for a minute uncertainly, then with a 
 movement of puzzled disappointment he turned and 
 walked back to the drawing-room door. 
 
 The dinner-gong had sounded through the house. 
 Mrs. Maxtead, waiting in the dining-room, looked 
 about her uneasily, then glanced at her watch. The 
 French windows were closed, and the air in the room 
 was stifling. She rose, walked to the window, then 
 back to the table, lastly out into the hall. The cor- 
 ridor was dim ; she traversed it hastily and stopped 
 at Anna's door. There she knocked. 
 
 " Who is it ? " The answer came after a pause. 
 
 " I Jeanne. Won't you have any dinner ? " 
 
 *' I don't need dinner, thanks ; I '11 have some teK 
 later. My head aches. 1 * 
 
 There was silence ; then the thunder crackled 
 across the sky. Mrs. Maxtead knocked again 
 hastily.
 
 THE CIRCLE 215 
 
 " Let me in. Maurice and Doctor Penrhyn have 
 gone ; it 's uncanny getting through this storm 
 alone." 
 
 There was a faint movement inside the room, then 
 the sound of a key being turned. Mrs. Maxtead's 
 hand was on the handle, she turned it instantly ; 
 then, immediately the door yielded, she drew back. 
 " Good heavens, child ! " 
 
 The room was dark, except for the occasional flashes 
 that spun across it from the open window ; the cur- 
 tains were drawn back, and beyond the lawn and 
 cliff the oily sea and rent sky were plainly to be 
 seen in the intervals of weird light. Both inside 
 and out the excessive warmth hung pulselessly on 
 the air. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved forward. " This is like the 
 * Inferno, 1 " she said, " only more gruesome. Where 
 do you keep your matches ? I can't go another 
 second without a light." 
 
 " On the dressing-table." Anna had returned to 
 the window and stood looking out. Another twist 
 of light shot though the room. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead walked to the table and picked up 
 the matches. " You 're perfectly abominable,"" she 
 began ; but her words were drowned in a sweep of 
 sound. " Anna ! Shut that window and draw the 
 curtains." She lighted the candles hastily, then 
 walked across to the girl and caught her hand. 
 
 She drew her into the centre of the room ; but 
 there she paused. " Why, my dear child ! " she said.
 
 216 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " My dear child ! " She turned swiftly to the mantel- 
 piece and rang the bell ; then she walked to the 
 window, let down the blind and drew the curtains. 
 As the maid entered, she turned round. 
 
 " Bring some coffee and my box of cigarettes. We 
 shaVt dine to-night." She turned to Anna as the 
 girl withdrew. " Now, you Ve got to rise above this 
 storm. You Ve been frightening yourself to death ; 
 your eyes are absolutely scared."" 
 
 Anna pushed the hair from her forehead ; her face 
 was very white, and there were black circles under 
 her eves. 
 
 / 
 
 " You Ve been looking out of that window for 
 half an hour."" 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 " Anna ! " 
 
 The girl moved to the dressing-table. There was 
 a rigidity in her actions that was new. Her com- 
 panion's eyes took on their critical look. 
 
 " Anna," she said, " is it really the storm at all ? 
 I have a lingering feeling that it 's not." 
 
 Anna stood very still. " No, Jeanne, it 's not 
 storm." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead sat down quietly. " You Ve told 
 Maurice," she said directly, "and Maurice hasn't 
 taken it well." 
 
 Anna shivered in spite of the heat. " Oh no, I 
 haven't told him." 
 
 " Then what is it ? I rather feel as if I 'd dropped 
 a link. Oh, how detestable that noise is ! "
 
 THE CIRCLE 217 
 
 The thunder shook the house. 
 
 " I like it."" Anna raised her head. " It seems 
 to say all the things that I am afraid to say." 
 
 "Anna, Maurice is the straightest person I 
 know." 
 
 " Oh, I know, Jeanne I know." The girl 
 crossed the room, pausing beside the bed. " You Ye 
 very good to me, but can't you see that there are 
 times when the best, the cleverest, the nicest woman 
 in the world is of no use no use at all. When 
 one has to build up a wall and creep inside it till 
 one can dare to creep out again." She stopped. 
 
 Her companion looked up. " It 's a trying 
 night," she said quietly ; " a cigarette and a cup 
 of coffee " 
 
 Anna laughed suddenly. " A cigarette and a cup 
 of coffee ! How that bounds everything for you ! 
 Have you never felt your throat dry, and your 
 tongue parched, and your brain icy cold ? " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead ignored the words. "That last 
 peal sounded farther off," she said. " If only it 
 was n't so deadly hot, one might manage to brace 
 up." 
 
 The maid entered with the coffee ; she looked pale 
 and upset. Her mistress glanced at her. " You can 
 go to bed," she said. 
 
 The air stifled. Anna walked to the window, then 
 back to the bed. A fresh burst of thunder clattered 
 overhead. 
 
 *' How abominably near ! " A cigarette slipped
 
 218 THE CIRCLE 
 
 from Mrs. MaxteacTs hand. " Thunder to a woman 
 is like a bogie to a child it suggests the horrible 
 potency of the unseen."" She picked up the cigar- 
 ette and held it to a candle flame. " Anna, do you 
 think you could possibly sit still ? " 
 
 Anna looked round. " No. 1 11 sit still for all 
 the rest of my life, if you like, but not to-night. I 
 feel as if I had been immovable for hours and hours 
 and hours." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved round sharply. " Stop ! " she 
 said. " Did you hear that ? " 
 
 They both stayed motionless for a second ; then 
 they each drew breath. The sky seemed to tear 
 asunder, then tumble headlong to the earth in a 
 torrent of sound. 
 
 " The rain ! " 
 
 " The rain at last ! " Mrs. Maxtead walked to 
 the window and held back the blind. The water 
 was falling in a sheet across the lawn ; the light- 
 ning played fitfully at the horizon ; but already 
 the note of the thunder was lowered, and a breath 
 of cooler air came from the sea. 
 
 Anna walked to the window as well. 
 
 " Jeanne, I have a favour to ask." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead raised her brows. 
 
 '* I *ve been wanting to ask it ever since you 
 came, but, somehow, it wouldn't get said." She 
 paused and caught her breath. " Take me back 
 to town to-morrow, Jeanne, instead of Thursday. 
 I don't want to stay here another day." The
 
 THE CIRCLE 219 
 
 words were low and rapid, her voice sounded 
 strained. 
 
 Mrs. MaxteaxTs lips parted; she turned hastily. 
 " To-morrow ! But, my dear child " Then she 
 stopped. "Very well. To-morrow at any hour 
 you like." She let the blind drop.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER XII 
 
 STRODE sat in his study. The windows were 
 wide open, and the cool breeze blew in 
 refreshingly from the sea ; the rain had 
 ceased as abruptly as it began, and except 
 for an occasional distant growl, the thunder had died 
 away. On the desk before him was an array of 
 papers, but his hands rested on them idly, and his 
 eyes had an abstracted look ; it was only when a 
 knock fell cautiously on the door, and an instant 
 later the door itself opened, that his glance con- 
 centrated to life. 
 
 The old servant who had been his father's valet 
 entered deprecatingly. " Sorry to disturb you, sir, 
 but there ""s a lady to see you."" 
 
 " A lady, Straker ? " Strode unconsciously glanced 
 at the clock. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Shall I ask her to step in here, sir, or 
 to wait in the drawing-room ? "" 
 
 " In here." Strode rose and pushed his papers 
 aside. " Never mind, Straker ; on second thoughts, 
 I '11 see to it myself/' 
 
 The old man stepped aside, and Strode walked 
 quickly into the hall. His manner under unusual 
 circumstances was always calm ; whatever surprise
 
 THE CIRCLE 221 
 
 there may have been in his mind, there was none in 
 his face, as he recognised the figure standing by the 
 drawing-room door. 
 
 " Anna ! " He held out his hand. 
 
 She touched it nervously with her fingers and 
 looked up. " You are not angry ? " 
 
 " Angry ! " He laughed. " You are you. Can 
 I say more than that ? Come into the study ; it 's 
 almost cool there. 11 
 
 They crossed the hall quietly, but once inside the 
 room Strode closed the door, took her in his arms, 
 and kissed her. 
 
 " That ""s to show that with us love comes first, 
 always, in every emergency. Now, tell me what 
 under heaven has made you come out on such a 
 night to say nothing of breaking all the conven- 
 tionalities ? You look like a ghost."" He opened her 
 cloak gently and took it off. Her light dress clung 
 limp with the dampness of the air ; the roses, still 
 at her belt, were dead. He took them out and laid 
 them on the table. " Nothing sordid was meant to 
 touch you," he said. "You are too radiant for 
 death in any form." 
 
 She raised her eyes with a faint smile. " A 
 radiant ghost, Maurice ? What an anomaly ! " 
 
 He drew her towards a chair. "Now sit down, 
 and when you are quite ready tell me what has hap- 
 pened, but not till you are quite ready." He moved 
 back considerately to the arrangement of his papers, 
 and Anna sat down.
 
 222 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " It is very late."" She looked at the clock. 
 
 " Only twelve." 
 
 " How long may I stay ? " 
 
 ** Fifteen minutes ; 1 11 take you back then. Whe 
 knows that you came ? " 
 
 " No one. I slipped away."" 
 
 " Good ! Penrhyn drove off half an hour ago> 
 and Straker is as discreet as the grave. So your sin 
 won't find you out." 
 
 She looked up suddenly. " You don't think it 
 hateful of me to have come ? " 
 
 Strode's fingers were busy ; when he answered, his 
 voice came rather low. "If I were to be honest, 
 Anna, I 'd say that I Ve seldom felt quite so proud. 
 It's your first admission of reliance." He stopped. 
 
 She rose suddenly and stood behind him. " We 
 are leaving to-morrow, Maurice ; we go to town by 
 the first train." 
 
 He turned with a jerk. " What do you say ? 
 To-morrow ? " 
 
 She gazed fixedly at the desk. " Jeanne has busi- 
 ness that can't wait." 
 
 The perplexity left his eyes and he smiled. 
 " Quite absurd, my dear child ! I saw Mrs. Max- 
 tead at eight ; she never said a word of such a 
 thing." 
 
 M She did n't know at eight." 
 
 " Ob, a telegram ? " 
 
 Anna bent her head. 
 
 Strode smoothed his hair. "That's very hate-
 
 THE CIRCLE 223 
 
 ful," he said after a pause, " very hateful. But you 
 must cheer up ! You must cheer up ! It is n't 
 so bad, after all." He looked at her and smiled. 
 " You '11 lose the poppies and the sea for a bit ; but 
 you '11 still have me. You don't think I *m going 
 to be left behind ? " He smoothed his hair afresh 
 and laughed reassuringly. " I was looking into 
 things, as you came in ; I find I can be spared from 
 here. I '11 be in town a day or two after you." 
 
 Anna's head remained bent. He put out his 
 hand and touched her arm. " Dearest, we '11 have a 
 jolly time in town ? " 
 
 She raised her head with an effort. " You know 
 it was n't to say silly things that I came." 
 
 " T was never to tell me the famous secret ? 
 That secret that you did me out of on the cliff." 
 He laughed again with an eager attempt to amuse 
 her; then suddenly his face clouded over, and he 
 caught both her hands. " Anna," he said in a 
 different voice, " what 's the matter with you to- 
 night?" 
 
 She met his eyes steadily. She had braced herself 
 to the ordeal as she crossed the cliff. " I 'm not 
 well, that's all. Heaps of women would be limp 
 after such a storm." 
 
 " Poor little girl ! Sit down again and let me 
 take care of you ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " It 's easier to talk stand- 
 ing. I must say what I came to say." 
 
 He made a resigned gesture.
 
 224 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " It is n't very easy to say, Maurice." 
 
 His eyes narrowed. " It is n't that you think 
 you 've ceased to care, or or any rubbish of that 
 sort ? " 
 
 She smiled faintly. " No ; it is n't rubbish of that 
 sort." 
 
 " Then what else counts ? " 
 
 " Nothing and a lot of things." 
 
 "Let's have it out." 
 
 Her lips parted twice before she spoke ; then she 
 straightened herself. " I have thought about your 
 coming to town, Maurice ; I 've thought that you 
 would want to come ; and I came to-night to tell you 
 that you must n't, that you must stay here that 
 you must promise me to stay here." She freed her 
 hands and clasped them tightly behind her back. 
 
 Strode stared at her in silence. 
 
 " It was to say that that I came. I did n't want 
 to go without seeing you ; I did n't want to put it in 
 a letter, I know it sounds irrational, but women 
 are full of whims." 
 
 He still stared incredulously. " What exactly 
 does it mean ? I suppose I have some right to 
 ask." 
 
 " Maurice ! " 
 
 He turned and walked to the open window. 
 
 " Maurice, you are angry ? " 
 
 " Not angry." 
 
 " Hurt ? " 
 
 " Possibly ; I don't quite know."
 
 THE CIRCLE 225 
 
 She stood for a second uncertainly in the centre of 
 the room ; then she crossed to where he stood. 
 
 " Maurice, you know that I care for you ? " 
 
 " I know that / care for you." He looked steadily 
 out into the darkness. 
 
 " Maurice, I count you the most generous person 
 I know. You know nothing about me, and you have 
 never asked anything. You have taken me all on 
 trust. Few men would do that." 
 
 He remained motionless. " You are Mrs. Max- 
 tead's cousin ; you live with her. What was there 
 to ask?" 
 
 She shook her head. " That does n't fill every- 
 thing. We each have some personal thing to make 
 life difficult ; each our own responsibilities, as I told 
 you this morning. In these three weeks I have been 
 forgetting mine, and to-night they have wakened me 
 up." She paused. 
 
 He turned swiftly. " Then this business is yours, 
 not Mrs. Maxtead's ? " 
 
 She looked away. " Hers and mine. Our affairs 
 are one." 
 
 " And you are in trouble ? " With an abrupt 
 gesture he put out his hand. "What a jealous 
 inconsiderate savage I have been ! " 
 
 She laid her cold fingers in his and smiled. 
 " Thank you, Maurice. Just for a minute I feared 
 and and I could n't have fought a battle to- 
 night. I feel so tired." 
 
 Without a word he passed his arm round her and 
 15
 
 226 THE CIRCLE 
 
 drew her back to the desk. " There will be no 
 battles for you while I am here to fight them. 
 Whatever this thing is that has risen up to bother 
 you, it must be left to me to me, you understand."" 
 
 She touched her lips with her handkerchief, and 
 slowly gathered up her strength. " After this, 
 Maurice,"" she corrected gently, '"after this, things 
 will be left to you ; but in this one case I must 
 act for myself. I 'm afraid there 's no drawing 
 back." 
 
 " Which implies ? " He searched her face. 
 
 Her lips were cold, but she met his gaze staunchly. 
 " Which implies, Maurice, that something has hap- 
 pened that I never counted on, never looked for ; 
 something that involves other people besides myself. 
 And I want you to give me the greatest help it 's in 
 your power to give ; I want you to let me think of 
 you here away from the hateful harassing world 
 thinking of me and believing in me, till I can 
 send for you. You know that 1 11 send the first 
 moment that I can ? " 
 
 "My dear child, the harassing world is a man's 
 place."' 
 
 " The finer of him to relinquish it for a little." 
 
 Strode's eyes were puzzled and perplexed. " Wo- 
 men are incomprehensible ! " he said at last. " First 
 a mysterious secret, now a mysterious mission ; it 
 sounds like the last century. How many days will 
 this thing take, provided I do consent?" 
 
 ** Four weeks from to-day."
 
 THE CIRCLE 227 
 
 He took a step backward. " Weeks ! Do you 
 know what you are saying ? " 
 
 " Perfectly ; to an hour." 1 
 
 " But a month a whole month ! What does it 
 mean ? What under heaven am I to do with myself 
 for a month ? " He looked blank. 
 
 "As you have done every other year. Sail and 
 fish and read." She stopped, checked by the look in 
 his eyes. 
 
 He came quite close to her and took her hands. 
 " That is a very easy programme to make out," he 
 said ; " but you don't know what you say. Sailing 
 and fishing are poor sport when one has tried love. 
 You can tell me to stay away from you, but you 
 can't do more than tell." 
 
 Her fingers showed white against his ; she looked 
 unsteadily round the room, then slowly, reluctantly, 
 her glance returned to his. 
 
 "Maurice, you said to-night that you were 
 proud of my relying on you. Have I relied too 
 much ? " 
 
 His hand tightened on hers, then relaxed ; he 
 dropped her fingers and turned again to the 
 window. 
 
 There was a long wait. Anna made no movement, 
 but her face looked very tired. 
 
 At last Strode spoke without looking round. 
 " Man makes a poor sort of lover, after all, Anna ; 
 he needs a lot of reminding." 
 
 She took a step forward. " Maurice? "
 
 228 THE CIRCLE 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 * Maurice ? " 
 
 He wheeled round and looked at her. " Have n't 
 you known all along that a saint would give you any- 
 thing you asked, if you only put it to him straight ? 
 I don't know what you want to do ; but I trust you 
 like mysel Of course I '11 wait."
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER XIII 
 
 MRS. MAXTEAD paused with her fin- 
 gers on the handle of Annans door. 
 Eight days had passed since the night 
 of the storm at Trescar, and she was 
 once more in her town house. Her fingers moved 
 restlessly for a second, then the handle turned, the 
 door yielded, and she entered the room. A light air 
 came through the window; the sun danced gaily 
 from the mirrors to the floor. She turned directly 
 towards the bed. 
 
 " I have been awake all night," she said, " like a 
 girl after her first dance. The stage and the audi- 
 ence and you kept whizzing through my brain like 
 a wheeL It was a superb success ! Superb ! How 
 do you feel ? " 
 
 Anna was sitting up in bed; she looked fragile 
 and tired ; her face, in contrast to her red hair, 
 seemed as white as her wrapper or the pillows that 
 propped her up. On a table by her side was a tray 
 with a barely tasted breakfast ; and spread over the 
 coverlet, in a disorder of open pages, were half-a- 
 dozen newspapers. She put out her hand languidly. 
 "Yes, Jeanne; I suppose they have accepted 
 me."
 
 234) THE CIRCLE 
 
 Mrs. MaxteacTs eyes sparkled. " Accepted ? What 
 a word ! They have gone mad ; it 's the seal on 
 your success. You were magnificent. I have never 
 seen anything so fine. You have more grit than I 
 ever thought." 
 
 Anna was silent ; then she smiled very faintly and 
 looked up. " I think it 's you who have the grit, 
 Jeanne. Do you think I ha vent seen all this 
 terrible week ? Seen you watching me, seen the 
 doubt in your mind, though you never asked a 
 question, never hinted by a word that I was not 
 not quite the same? I am not so dense. 11 Her 
 voice was very low. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead began folding and sorting the 
 papers. " It has been the most awful week of my 
 life. There were times but that does n't count 
 now. Last night compensated for everything. Last 
 night was like the lifting of a coffin-lid to a man 
 who is buried alive. I don't believe I stirred a 
 hairVbreadth during the whole first act." 
 
 Anna drew a long breath. " I knew last night 
 would be all right. It was the waiting for last 
 night ; it was the reception your reception on 
 Thursday." She shivered and closed her eyes. " I 
 shall never forget that reception, Jeanne, never 
 never. The coldness of my hands and feet ; the feel- 
 ing of being outside myself ; the crowds and crowds 
 of faces all inquisitive, all on tiptoe as it were, all 
 blankly, candidly disappointed. I shall never forget 
 it. It was a nightmare." She covered her face.
 
 THE CIRCLE 231 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was silent for a moment, her fingers 
 stirring and rustling amongst the papers; at last 
 her eyelids drooped. 
 
 " We won't talk about the reception," she said 
 shortly, "it's burned into mv brain. But there is 
 something that I want to say." She paused, then 
 went on again. " Ever since we left Trescar I have 
 thought of nobody but you ; I have shown more 
 patience than I ever dreamt I possessed ; I have been 
 inhuman nothing less. Now that the ordeal of 
 the first night is over, the actual crisis got through, 
 I want you to consider me a little to consider 
 what it costs a woman to be silent for eight days. 
 You talk of nightmares ; every nightmare must have 
 a cause. Tell me frankly what happened at Trescar 
 the night before we left ? Till that night you were 
 perfectly happy, I never saw you so buoyant, so full 
 of life; then all in an hour everything collapsed. 
 Since then you have been the mere shadow of your- 
 self ; you go about with your eyes open, seeing 
 nothing ; you are interested in nothing ; you scarcely 
 hear when you are spoken to. Except for last 
 night, you have been living in a trance. For 
 heaven's sake, rouse yourself! Shake it off! 1 * She 
 touched the girl's arm. 
 
 Anna moved languidly and turned her face away. 
 
 "Anna, you rose above it last night. Rise above 
 it now." 
 
 Anna smiled a little. " Ah, that was the dramatic 
 situation. I am not to be praised for that It is
 
 232 THE CIRCLE 
 
 in ray blood, I suppose ; I act as a dog hunts by 
 instinct." She moved her face restlessly against the 
 pillows. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead still held her arm. "It is not a 
 quarrel between you and Maurice ; I know that. 
 With your temperaments you would have made it 
 up in twelve hours ; it is something more lasting 
 than a quarrel. Can't you confide in me?" 
 
 Anna drew her arm away. " I can't ; I have n't 
 put it to myself as yet." She pushed back her hair 
 with her habitual gesture. " At present I am an 
 automaton ; I know that I have to play every night 
 for three weeks and play well. After the three 
 weeks " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved nearer by a step. " After 
 the three weeks there is your big rest, your six 
 months' rest ; then the contract with Polotski if 
 you consent, and the terms tempt us. After last 
 night we should control the market. But first the 
 rest ; I am set on that now more than ever. We 
 must burn back the colour into this." She touched 
 the girl's cheek. " You know the proverb of the 
 willing horse." 
 
 Anna smiled again wearily. 
 
 " Come, you '11 enjoy the rest ? " 
 
 The girl stared straight before her. 
 
 "Weeks and weeks of no responsibility no 
 study no rehearsals." 
 
 Anna's eyelids quivered, otherwise she was abso- 
 lutely still.
 
 THE CIRCLE 233 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead watched her warily, then slowly 
 drew herself upright. " My dear Anna,"" she said 
 sharply, " this is intolerable. It 's wicked ! It 's a 
 
 crime 
 
 A slight flush spread across Anna's cheek, but she 
 made no reply. 
 
 Her companion waited for none. She was stand- 
 ing very straight, and her fingers mechanically 
 twisted her wedding-ring round and round. "I 
 have been too lenient," she said, " I am going to 
 tell you now exactly what I think. I think you 
 are defying Fate hitting your head against a 
 stone wall. You are the luckiest girl I know 
 or have ever known. The nicest man on earth 
 worships you. Only the other night all London 
 the London that 's worth knowing crowded 
 here to meet you ; not six invitations were re- 
 fused. And last night you crowned your whole 
 career ; yet you lie there, dead and cold and dumb, 
 wrapped inside yourself impossible unreachable." 
 
 Anna covered her face again. 
 
 " You must wake up ! You must realise ! In 
 every crisis in existence, as I have told you again 
 and again, there is the need of action. You must 
 act ! Do you hear ? You must act ! " 
 
 Anna cowered back into the pillows. 
 
 " You are losing your hold on things. Any day 
 Maurice may discover who you are. I told you long 
 ago the necessity of telling him yourself. Any day 
 he may see a picture of you. I know the illustrated
 
 234 THE CIRCLE 
 
 papers do not get to Trescar ; I know Maurice cares 
 nothing for them ; still still, one can never tell. 
 There are no hermitages nowadays."" 
 
 Anna's fingers parted limply. " Sometimes, Jeanne, 
 I wish that Maurice would find out. It would sim- 
 plify a lot of things. 11 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead made no comment, but she ceased 
 to twist her ring. 
 
 " Anna," she said softly, " you have not, by any 
 chance, heard from your own people?" Her voice 
 was very low, but as keen as a needle-point. 
 
 A flood of colour suffused the giiTs face, then died 
 painfully away. Her eyelids opened slowly and she 
 looked up. " No, Jeanne, on my word of honour ! " 
 Her lashes drooped again. 
 
 For a while Mrs. Maxtead stayed motionless. Then 
 she walked across the room. There was an unwonted 
 shadow in her eyes, a perplexed line between her 
 brows. She stopped by the mantelpiece, and, lean- 
 ing against it, looked down at the white lilac in the 
 grate. 
 
 "You have never told me a lie, Anna! And 
 yet-" 
 
 " I have told you the truth now. How could I 
 have heard from them ? They know nothing of me 
 nothing of where I am." Her voice was monoto- 
 nous and tired. 
 
 " Of course not, and yet Oh, I admit myself 
 beaten ! " She lifted her head. " Against a doggedly 
 indifferent woman there is no weapon under the sun."
 
 THE CIRCLE 235 
 
 She walked quickly towards the door, then in the 
 centre of the room she paused. Her hands were 
 hanging by her sides, and her eyes gleamed. 
 
 " Anna," she said suddenly, " for heaven's sake, cry ! 
 Lose your temper or cry. Do something do any- 
 thing, only don't lie there like that. You look as if 
 you were seeing ghosts ! " She laid her hands on the 
 foot-rail of the bed and leant forward. 
 
 Anna remained unmoved. " I have n't cried since 
 that morning at Trescar, when I told you about 
 Maurice. I don't know that I shall ever cry 
 again ! ** 
 
 " Then tell me what it is ? There 's nothing that 
 two people two determined people cannot do. 
 I am as capable of helping you as a man more 
 capable. Anna ? " 
 
 There was a note in the last word that Anna had 
 not heard before. Its appeal cut through her ; she 
 suddenly raised herself. 
 
 " Oh, Jeanne ! " she said brokenly. " I 'm doing 
 my best. Indeed, indeed, I 'm doing my best ! If 
 you care for me the littlest bit, don't question me 
 any more." Her voice rose. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead walked round to her former posi- 
 tion beside the bed and laid her hand on the girl's 
 shoulder. But Anna pushed it excitedly aside. 
 
 " No ! Let me say what I can say now while 
 I want to say it. Something has happened : it 
 doesn't matter what. When there is a fire at sea 
 and people are killed, it does n't much matter
 
 236 THE CIRCLE 
 
 whether they are burnt or drowned. They are 
 dead, and that is enough. Something has fallen on 
 me and left me stunned ; as yet I am neither recon- 
 ciled nor beaten only stunned. I can't talk to 
 you about it, because I have n't talked about it to 
 myself. Some day soon, when my courage begins 
 to shake itself out, I will face it and see where 
 I stand. Then, for the first time in my whole 
 life, Jeanne, I will really know myself. Whatever 
 is strongest the best or the worst will come 
 to the top. But now now I am nothing just 
 a shuttlecock tossed between two bats; a feather 
 blown on the wind ; anything you like to think 
 of that has neither grip nor weight nor hold - 
 that just exists." Her eyes looked fixedly in front 
 of her, her hands were clasped about her knees. 
 "That's all I have to say except one thing." 
 Her hands relaxed and she turned her eyes on her 
 companion's face. " Long ago you won me over 
 by a trick by a subterfuge ; but that 's past 
 now. We are all honest or dishonest according 
 to our lights. According to yours you meant mag- 
 nificently by me and you have done magnificently. 
 I have n't forgotten, and I sha'n't forget. I '11 play 
 for you loyally every night of the three weeks. 
 You may count on that. Whatever my days are 
 like, my nights will be all right." Her voice sud- 
 denly dropped; she smiled wearily and put out 
 her hand. " Loyally, Jeanne. Remember." 
 
 Mrs. M axtead took the hand and held it in silence.
 
 THE CIRCLE 237 
 
 Her face was averted ; she looked towards the win- 
 dow and the sun. 
 
 "I have always been proud of you, Anna," she 
 said at length, " quite ridiculously proud. Some- 
 how somehow I think I 'm prouder of you to-day 
 than I have ever been." She dropped the hand, and 
 walking abruptly to the window, let down the blind.
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IT was late afternoon on the last day in May. 
 Rain had fallen heavily in the morning, but 
 with the drying capacity of the London streets 
 the pavements were clean again, though the 
 heat that had prevailed for a fortnight was allayed. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead stepped out of her brougham and 
 paused on the doorstep of her house before inserting 
 her latch-key. She turned round, and her glance 
 moved restlessly from the trees to the sky, washed 
 free of clouds ; from the sky back again. She looked 
 older than was customary as she stood in the full 
 flood of light ; the faint lines about her mouth 
 seemed deeper, the set of her lips harder than was 
 usual. She looked a woman who was bearing a 
 mental strain, the weight of which she hardly ad- 
 mitted to herself. Presently she sighed, then caught 
 herself up impatiently and opened the door. 
 
 The hall was empty. She threw her parasol on a 
 table and mounted the stairs. The first door on the 
 corridor was Anna's ; she stopped outside it and 
 tapped. Getting no answer, she shrugged her 
 shoulders, walked away, and pushed her own door 
 open with a jerk. Then she raised her eyebrows. 
 
 ** Anna ! I Ve jnt been looking for ^ou."
 
 THE CIRCLE 239 
 
 Anna rose from the desk, a bundle of letters in 
 her hand. She wore no hat, but her arras were 
 slipped loosely through the sleeves of her fur travel- 
 ling-wrap. Mrs. Maxtead noted the point. 
 
 " Fur in May ! How un-English ! " She drew 
 off her gloves. 
 
 The other laughed a little nervously. " I felt cold. 
 I have been writing business letters ; you see I used 
 your desk to give me inspiration." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead nodded. " Business is rather petri- 
 fying. Who were the letters to ? " 
 
 " No one of account. I was writing cheques and 
 paying bills. I was seeing how I stand. 11 
 
 " My dear Anna, what a waste of time ! The glory 
 of being rich is the fact of being able to ignore money; 
 to be really Arcadian one should be a millionaire." 
 
 Anna stood silent. She was toying with the letters 
 in her hand; occasionally she lifted her hand and 
 pushed back her hair. " I wrote one letter that was 
 not about business, 11 she said at length. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead carefully removed her hat and veil, 
 then, with elaborate indifference, looked into the 
 glass. " You are indefatigable," she said. 
 
 Anna stirred a little. " Don't be flippant, Jeanne, 
 the letter was to Maurice." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's hand almost trembled, but she 
 controlled the impulse ; she adjusted a hairpin and 
 studied the effect. "But you write to Maurice 
 every other day. I wish you would be more casual 
 about trivial things.""
 
 240 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " This letter was different from the others." 
 
 " How original ! It 's quite hard to get variety in 
 love letters ; they are like one-stringed instruments." 
 
 Anna walked back to the desk ; her face was 
 flushed, but she shivered with nervous cold. "Do 
 take it seriously, Jeanne ; I want you to understand.' 1 
 
 " Well, say on." 
 
 " I have decided that Maurice must know." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead turned from the glass. " I am so 
 glad," she said quickly. "So very glad. I hope 
 you have used all your tact ! Tact is more essential 
 to life than bread." 
 
 Anna touched the top of the desk tentatively. 
 "I'm afraid I have not used any tact." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Oh, don't blame me, Jeanne ; don't blame me, 
 If I have made an error, no one will suffer but my- 
 self. I have done as I think best as seems best 
 to me." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead looked at her slowly. " A mistake 
 never involves one person alone ; don't imagine that. 
 What exactly have you done ? " 
 
 The girl was silent for a moment ; her fingers 
 moved slowly to and fro. At last she looked up. 
 "This is Friday ; my engagement at the ' Corinthian ' 
 ends to-morrow night." She stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead nodded. She felt the sense of im- 
 pending knowledge, was conscious of it with a half- 
 realised dread. " Yes," she said in a quiet voice. 
 
 " Well, Maurice will know to-morrow. Don't look
 
 THE CIRCLE 241 
 
 at me like that. It seems as if your eyes were boring 
 holes. I have thought it out all of it. 11 She spoke 
 fast. " He must know, and I cannot tell him and 
 cannot write. There is only one way left ; he must 
 see for himself.' 1 She paused and passed her hand- 
 kerchief over her lips ; the gesture was unusual to 
 her, one that never suggested itself, save in strong 
 excitement. Mrs. Maxtead saw it and made a men- 
 tal note. 
 
 " Explain ? " she said. 
 
 " Oh, can't you see for yourself? Can't you 
 understand ? I have written to Maurice, asking him 
 to come up from Trescar to-morrow. He will arrive 
 late in the afternoon ; he will want to see me as soon 
 as possible. Now, it is the height of the season, and 
 few people in town have an evening to spare. What 
 more natural than that we should meet at a place 
 of amusement ? What more natural than that you 
 should have a box at the * Corinthian ' ? " 
 
 " Anna ! Are you out of your senses ? " 
 
 Anna lifted her head. " Sometimes I think I am. 
 Do you remember the night we dined with Maurice 
 at Trescar? Do you remember what Doctor Pen- 
 rhyn said about geniuses? Perhaps you are right, 
 after all ; perhaps I am a genius, and perhaps this is 
 my mad time." She laughed unsteadily. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead moved across to her, but she drew 
 away. "Don't touch me, Jeanne ; I could n't bear 
 to be touched just now. I am all" she made an 
 effective gesture " I am all in little bits." 
 
 16
 
 242 
 
 The other walked back to the dressing-table and 
 rested against it, looking at the girl with attentive 
 eyes. For once, it seemed, she could find nothing to 
 say. 
 
 Anna's fingers pressed the letters in her hand ; her 
 nervousness was rising, but she made a strenuous 
 effort to keep it in control. 
 
 "Look at something else, Jeanne; I abominate 
 being summed up."" 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead lowered her lids. " My dear child," 
 she said, "I'd turn that matter over quite three 
 times, if I were you. Never put a man in a false 
 position, if you have any other course ; even love can 
 be killed by a single incident if the incident be 
 strong enough. It 's a preposterous way of breaking 
 it to him. Perfectly preposterous ! " 
 
 Anna set her lips. " It 's the way I wish to do it." 
 
 " Why not write ? " 
 
 " Because I cannot. I know you don't under- 
 stand, and I know that I can't explain ; so it must 
 rest there. But I have been trying to write it for a 
 week past, and every time the pen sticks literally 
 sticks." 
 
 " Let me write for you ? With half a sheet of 
 notepaper Maurice can be made to understand. It 
 was a joke in the first instance a very harmless 
 joke ; afterwards, you fell in love that covers 
 everything. Maurice is n't a Puritan or an imbecile. 
 He isn't the sort of man to shut his wife into a 
 harem. After the first little wound to his vanity,
 
 THE CIRCLE 243 
 
 he will be prouder of you than I am. There is n't 
 a man living who would n't lose his head over your 
 preference. Let me write ? Find me a pen and 
 let 's make an end of it once for all ? " 
 
 Anna remained rigid. " You don't understand. 
 I want him to see it all in a flash one big flash. 
 I have my reasons ; I know exactly what I am 
 doing." 
 
 " It is a very dangerous game. A man can have 
 an overdose of enlightenment. 1 ' 
 
 " I know ; but you don't understand." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead shrugged her shoulders. " And as 
 4 Sappho'?" 
 
 The girl turned. " I meant it to be * Sappho.' I 
 want to make no sentimental appeal." 
 
 The other laughed curtly. " And did you suppose 
 that I would assist at the denoiiment ? " 
 
 " No. I supposed you would stay at home. I tell 
 you because I want you to know, not because I want 
 you to co-operate. I have told Maurice to be in 
 good time and to wait in the box ; he won't have to 
 wait very long." 
 
 " No. Ten minutes ought to set him right." Mrs. 
 Maxtead's manner was diy. 
 
 Anna looked down at her letters. " I think I have 
 said everything now, Jeanne." 
 
 " You have said a good deal ; I almost think it 's 
 my turn." Her eyes gleamed and she dropped her 
 bantering tone. "You are grown up, Anna, and 
 you have a great future in front of you ; but to me
 
 244 THE CIRCLE 
 
 you are still a child. In my eyes you will always be 
 young. I will always look back on you from my 
 thirteen years' start. Now, in dealing with a child, 
 what are one's principles? Reward it when it's 
 good ; punish it when it 's bad ; always, under all 
 conditions, shield it from its own mistakes. I have 
 no intention of letting you work this scheme. If you 
 are mad, all the more reason for my sanity. You 
 shall not post the letter while I am here." 
 
 Anna said nothing, but her eyes grew very dark. 
 " I am sorry to disappoint you, Jeanne." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's expression became set. " I never 
 beg, you know that. I forbid you to post it." 
 
 Anna's colour paled a little. "I am very, very 
 sorry, Jeanne." 
 
 " Then you set me absolutely aside ? " 
 
 " I act as I think best." 
 
 They looked at each other silently, then Mrs. Max- 
 tead came straight across the space that divided 
 them. 
 
 " In dealing with an insane person, one is justified 
 in anything." She made a swift forward movement, 
 and her hand grazed the letters. 
 
 Anna swerved aside, and the blood rushed back 
 into her face. With nervous haste she walked to 
 the mantelpiece and pressed the bell. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead fingered her rings. " Anna, there 
 are some acts that a woman would give much to 
 recall when it is too late." 
 
 Anna looked straight in front of her.
 
 THE CIRCLE 245 
 
 The maid entered and glanced questioningly from 
 one to the other. 
 
 Anna turned to her. "I rang, Celeste. Have 
 these letters posted at once." She held them out. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead was standing by the dressing-table. 
 As Celeste moved across the room, she made a step 
 forward, her lips parted, then closed again ; she 
 shrugged her shoulders and turned aside. 
 
 " Some day I shall write a treatise on ' Woman,' " 
 she said lightly. " I think it ought to sell."
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER XV 
 
 E 
 
 IGHT o'clock struck as Strode stood 01, 
 the steps of his club and looked down on 
 . the progress of life. London, in the ordi- 
 nary course of things, possessed slight 
 attraction for him ; but to-night he saw it through 
 ts own blue haze of evening, whose mystery en- 
 'eloped and beautified almost beyond belief. 
 
 He stood contemplatively still, his hands in the 
 pockets of his coat, a cigar between his lips. There 
 are moments in the life of every man when events 
 ~eem too complete to admit of haste ; when, through 
 *;he very impatience of desire, he loiters on the brink 
 af fulfilment. 
 
 Presently a man lounged up the steps and nodded 
 to him in passing. " Hallo, Strode ! " he said. " That 
 you?" 
 
 Strode's reverie melted. He turned with a cordial 
 impulse and held out his hand. 
 
 " Hallo, Strangfield ! How are you ? How are 
 you? 1 ' 
 
 The other returned the pressure of his hand 
 vaguely. " Bound for the old grind ? " he asked, 
 indicating the town. 
 
 Strode smiled. " A lot hangs on a point of view," 
 he said. " You should have yourself buried for four
 
 THE CIRCLE 247 
 
 weeks ; after that, I expect, you 'd talk more politely 
 of life." 
 
 Strangfield gazed at him attentively through his 
 eyeglass. " You look as if you 'd struck something," 
 he said at last slowly. " What is it ? A woman or 
 a winner ? " 
 
 Strode was silent for a moment ; then he laughed 
 with deep amusement. 
 
 " You Ve hit it, old chap ! I have struck some- 
 thing ; but I don't think I '11 put a name to it. 
 Somehow somehow, Strangfield, I rather fancy 
 you would n't understand."" He laughed again long 
 and pleasantly, then suddenly slapped the other on 
 the shoulder and ran down the steps. 
 
 Straugfield stood immovable for a second; then 
 his eyeglass dropped from his eye, he turned about 
 meditatively, and passed through the big swinging 
 doors. 
 
 Strode walked forward for a dozen rapid steps, 
 then stopped and hailed a hansom. 
 
 " ' Corinthian ' Theatre ! " he called as he sprang 
 inside. The doors closed, and he leant luxuriously 
 back. At all times optimistic and light-hearted, 
 to-night he felt well disposed towards the entire uni- 
 verse. In his pocket was Anna's letter ; behind him 
 lay the four weeks of probation ; before him the 
 future of boundless hopes and the present of delight- 
 ful certainty. He was at ease with all the world 
 and with himself. 
 
 Arrived at the theatre he paid the cabman twice
 
 248 THE CIRCLE 
 
 his fare, and strolled into the vestibule wit A the half- 
 humorous smile that Strangfield had raised still 
 lingering round his mouth. The vestibule was large, 
 and entering it he paused interestedly and looked 
 about ; with a tinge of peculiar feeling it struck 
 him that here was the stronghold of the woman 
 whose story had affected him long ago. It was a 
 curious whim of Anna's to choose it as their meeting- 
 place. He paused on the thought, and a new idea 
 started in his mind ; for almost the first time he 
 found himself wondering what this woman's face was 
 like. Her pictures were sure to be about such 
 people always advertised. He glanced round the 
 walls, but no pictures were to be seen ; then he re- 
 membered impatiently that it was the last night of 
 the engagement, and such things as pictures were 
 already packed away. With a contemptuous amuse- 
 ment at his passing curiosity, he mixed with the 
 increasing crowd that filled the vestibule, and mov- 
 ing past one laughing group and then another, 
 reached the office and asked for Mrs. Maxtead's 
 box. 
 
 The letter of the box was murmured to him, then 
 repeated to an attendant, and he was ushered along 
 a corridor carpeted in green. He noticed that the 
 colouring was green, in contrast to the usual red of 
 such a place ; it was the sole detail of the elaborately- 
 fitted theatre that afterwards stayed in his mind. 
 
 A wave of disappointment touched him as the 
 door was opened and the vacant box met his eyes ;
 
 THE CIRCLE 249 
 
 then he caught himself up impatiently as a portion 
 of Anna's letter recurred to his mind. " It may be 
 ten minutes past the half hour when you see me," it 
 ran, " but be kind kind and very lenient, as you 
 always are." How exaggerative women were ! But 
 how exceedingly lovable ! His expression softened ; 
 the door closed on the attendant, and taking off his 
 hat and coat, he hung them up. 
 
 He smoothed his hair, and passed his hand tenta- 
 tively over his chin. " It felt a very decent shave," 
 he said half aloud. " But a woman's eyes are so 
 deuced keen " The sentence broke away. From 
 below came the short, peremptory tap of the con- 
 ductor's baton, the faint shifting of seats and arrang- 
 ing of instruments, then the first melodious note of 
 the overture that prefaced the first act of the play. 
 
 He moved to the front of the box, sat down and 
 opened his programme ; he glanced through it super- 
 ficially, but his eye lingered on the last name, 
 " ' Sappho ' Mdlle. Solny." He smiled grimly and 
 laid the paper aside. The overture ceased ; a babel 
 of laughter and talk and a waving of fans seemed to 
 fill the air; the perfume of flowers and scent rose 
 distinctly from the stalls. He leant out, then leant 
 back and drew his watch from an inner pocket. The 
 hands marked half-past eight ; he moved impatientlv 
 and altered the position of his chair. 
 
 An audible rustle ran through the house as women 
 settled themselves more comfortably ; the hum of 
 voices slackened, then suddenly died out ; the orches-
 
 250 THE CIRCLE 
 
 tra played a soft bar or two, and in expectant silence 
 the curtain rose. 
 
 The scene was severe and unadorned Jean 
 Gaussin's rooms in the Rue Jacob ; the sombre 
 carpet, the desk massed with work, the student's 
 lamp each detail suggestive and impressive in its 
 way. The rise of the curtain disclosed Gaussin in 
 converse with his uncle from the country. Strode 
 leant back in his seat ; the perfect pronunciation of 
 the French pleased him, but to the motive of the 
 words he paid only partial heed. The reformed 
 roue, roused by the town to the remembrance of his 
 past, interested him not at all ; though the boy 
 Gaussin, with his fair hair, young colouring, and 
 sensitive voice, seemed better worth watching, as 
 bit by bit with little rushes of enthusiasm, sudden 
 shy baitings he told the story of the ball at 
 Deehelette's studio ; of the woman in the Egyptian 
 dress, with the wide grey eyes, and the forehead 
 ornaments of steel ; of the wild night that followed ; 
 the home-coming to this very room ; the terrible, 
 prophetic ascent of the long stairs its gay begin- 
 ning, its almost overwhelming end. It was a studied 
 piece of acting, ending with pointed force where the 
 boy, with a swift touch of reserve, breaks in on his 
 uncle's laugh, and with a shrug of the shoulders 
 that snaps the subject off, nods to the mirror, where 
 a woman's card is stuck between an invitation to the 
 Affaires Etrangeres and the programme of the studio 
 ball, and turning to his desk, picks up a ponderous
 
 THE CIRCLE 251 
 
 book. It was well done, and possessed the suggestion 
 of events to come. But a man in love is not the 
 ideal critic of a play. Strode looked again at his 
 watch, then he looked towards the door of the 
 box. The watch marked ten minutes past the half 
 hour ; with an impatient sigh he turned again to the 
 stage. 
 
 The uncle Cesaire had shuffled out of sight ; 
 Gaussin sat at his desk, his elbows resting on it, 
 his forehead supported by his hands, the green shade 
 of the lamp reflected on his engrossed face. 
 
 Strode pushed back his chair and rose ; as he did 
 so a faint knock fell on the door of Gaussin's room. 
 He noticed, in a preoccupied way, that the audience 
 was very still breathlessly still ; as he crossed the 
 box he heard Gaussin's short impatient "Come 
 in!" 
 
 He put his hand on the door leading into the 
 corridor, then he stood still. A roar of applause 
 shook the house. It swayed upwards and downwards 
 deafeningly, like the thunder of the sea ; it sank away 
 to a whisper, then broke forth again, tumultuous 
 and electrifying. Strode's hand relaxed. He stood 
 irresolute : then, following a very human impulse, 
 walked back to the front of the box. There he 
 stood motionless his hands on the back of his 
 chair his figure erect and very stiff. 
 
 The door at the back of Gaussin's room had opened, 
 and " Sappho " herself was on the stage. She stood 
 quite still, one hand resting on the lintel of the door,
 
 252 THE CIRCLE 
 
 her head held up ; a large hat drooped over her face, 
 a curve of red hair caught the light above her won- 
 derful eyes ; her dress shimmered, and her teeth, be- 
 tween her parted lips, gleamed. She was " Sappho " 
 as Daudet has drawn her in the height of her in- 
 toxication. When the tumult of applause had died 
 away, she turned to Gaussin with a slight gesture. 
 
 " It is I, you see ... I return . . ."" The 
 accent was very perfect the faintly delicate sug- 
 gestion of the Russian burr, to be caught by an 
 over-attentive ear, added piquancy and individual- 
 ity to the voice. To Strode, standing in strained 
 attention, every sound came clear and fine as a 
 bell ; every intonation sprang through his mind 
 with the speed and vividness of light, shaking his 
 thoughts as a violent concussion might have done. 
 Very slowly, almost methodically, he passed his hand 
 four or five times over his hair ; then he turned, and 
 moving into the centre of the box, paused. 
 
 He stood for five minutes without a movement ; 
 then the physical crampedaess of his position forced 
 him to stir. He walked slowly across the narrow 
 space to where his coat was hung ; he lifted it from 
 its peg, looked at it, and put it back again ; then 
 with great deliberation he retraced his steps. In 
 the middle of the box he paused afresh, drew out 
 his watch, and wound it with peculiar attentive care. 
 This done, he moved forward stiffly, and taking up 
 his first position, sat there with scarcely a change of 
 attitude till the curtain fell. At the first outbreak
 
 THE CIRCLE 253 
 
 of applause he rose with a. rapidity that overturned 
 his chair, and walked out into the corridor. 
 
 From the various exits people were already filing 
 out. It was noticeable that in the thickest of the 
 press men moved aside to let him pass, and stared 
 after him when he had gone. In the vestibule he 
 walked straight to an attendant. 
 
 " How can I get to the back ? " he said. 
 
 The man looked at him. " The back, sir ? " 
 
 Strode turned. " God in heaven, man, can't you 
 understand English ? " His tone was very low, but 
 it pierced the attendant's brain. He drew back. 
 
 "Behind, sir, you mean," he corrected hastily. 
 " The stage-door in Green Street round the cor- 
 ner. Can I find you your hat, sir?" But Strode 
 was gone. 
 
 In two minutes he had found the stage-door, and 
 without a second's pause had pushed it open. He 
 took a perfunctory glance round the bare walls, at 
 the occasional men and women hurrying to and fro, 
 at the flaring gas-jets in their cages ; then he 
 walked quickly to the little office where the door- 
 keeper lounged over an evening paper. He took 
 out a card and laid it on the ledge. 
 
 " For Mdlle. Solny," he said laconically ; then he 
 turned his back. 
 
 The man picked up the card, eyed it, then turned 
 his attention to its owner. " Very sorry, sir " 
 
 Strode turned sharply. " Don't waste time. Send 
 up the card."
 
 254 
 
 " Very sorry, sir, but the lady never sees nobody 
 during a performance. Orders are very strict, sir." 1 
 The man fiddled with the card. 
 
 Strode took a step forward, looked round the 
 temporarily empty passage, then wheeled again and 
 laid a sovereign on the desk. 
 
 The man glanced at it thoughtfully, but shook 
 his head. 
 
 Strode looked at him steadily, and drawing out a 
 second sovereign laid it by the first. "I give you 
 four minutes, 11 he said, looking at the clock. 
 
 The door-keeper moved a little. " It 's risking 
 my place, sir " 
 
 Without a word Strode drew out a third coin. 
 
 The man moved uncomfortably, passed the back 
 of his hand across his mouth, looked slowly round, 
 and then touched the gold speculatively. 
 
 " It is n't the matter of the money, sir." 
 
 Strode laughed harshly. " Oh, that 's understood. 
 Call somebody, and look sharp."" 
 
 The man shuffled a little more, laid his hand on 
 a bell, then paused. " I '11 go myself, sir. If any- 
 body passes in, tell 'em I '11 be back." He picked up 
 the coins, came out of his office, and moved away. 
 At the turn of the passage he looked back. " Evenin' 
 paper's on the desk, sir.'" 
 
 Strode turned to him. " What the devil are you 
 waiting for?" 
 
 Left to himself, he paced up and down. His 
 stolidity was gone ; his energy was alive and goad-
 
 THE CIRCLE 255 
 
 ing him ; his activity ran like wildfire through his 
 blood. He took out a cigar, bit off the end and 
 lighted it, then threw it aside. The minutes seemed 
 hours ; his impatience was at fever heat. Then at 
 last the shuffling steps of the door-keeper came to 
 his ears. He ran down the passage and met the 
 man. 
 
 " That 11 do," he said sharply. " Just show me 
 the way." 
 
 The man hesitated. 
 
 Well, man, out with it ! " 
 
 " I saw her maid, sir not the dresser, sir, but 
 her own maid ; and she said " 
 
 Well ? " 
 
 " What I told you, sir. The lady never sees 
 nobody during the play." 
 
 Strode made an exclamation and turned away. 
 
 " That was n't all, sir. 11 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 ** No, sir, I was n't to be put off; I stuck at it. At 
 last, sir, she took in your card." 
 
 " Good ! And then ? " 
 
 "Mdlle. was most regretful, sir, but ** He 
 paused to draw a heavy breath. " She 's not over 
 well to-night, sir, and could n't see you. She hoped 
 you 'd understand " 
 
 Strode moved away ; for the moment it seemed 
 that he had forgotten the speaker's existence. Reach- 
 ing the door, he pulled it open and stood on the 
 step, looking out into the narrow silent street ;
 
 256 THE CIRCLE 
 
 then suddenly he turned and walked back into the 
 passage. 
 
 " What time does she leave the theatre, after the 
 show 's done ? " 
 
 " Eleven forty-five, sir ; never sooner, sir." 
 
 "Never sooner? Thanks! 11 He nodded curtly 
 and turned away ; the stage-door closed behind him 
 with a bang. 
 
 When he regained the vestibule people were mov- 
 ing back into the house ; the second act was due. 
 He mounted the stairs quickly, then stopped and 
 glanced into the fast-emptying bar. The women be- 
 hind the counter were gossiping together in a group ; 
 a few men lingered over their drinks. He turned 
 sharply and entered. 
 
 " Brandy-and-soda ! " he said laconically ; then 
 suddenly he caught sight of his face in the mirror. 
 He took a step backward and drew in his breath ; 
 then he passed his hand once more across his 
 hair. 
 
 " Say," he said abruptly, " you can leave the soda 
 out"
 
 PART TWO CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A~" one minute past twelve Strode knocked 
 sharply at the house in Palace Court. 
 He was quite as neat in appearance, 
 quite as well groomed as ever, but the 
 patent leather of his boots was soiled with mud, and 
 the ends of his trousers were slightly splashed with 
 it. Without any preliminary ceremony he walked 
 past Branks into the hall. 
 
 " Your mistress ? " he queried shortly. 
 
 "Mrs. Maxtead is in the boudoir, sir. Shall 
 I?" 
 
 " No. I think I know the room ; I '11 go right 
 in." He walked across the hall and lifted the divid- 
 ing curtain. 
 
 The windows were open, and the blinds fluttered 
 slightly in the draught of his entrance. It was still 
 a room of soft colouring, as it had been on the day 
 of Anna's first visit; the lamplight glowed through 
 pink shades, and in the grate long sprays of pink 
 roses were massed in purple bowls. At the farther 
 end Mrs. Maxtead lay on a couch drawn close to the 
 window, a book held open in her hand. She rose 
 slowly as Strode appeared. 
 
 "Where is Anna?" he asked curtly, as he held 
 out his hand. 
 
 17
 
 258 THE CIRCLE 
 
 She raised her eyebrows. "My dear Maurice, I 
 had almost asked the same question. You have 
 seen her last?" 
 
 He moved impatiently. " I Ve been to the ' Cor- 
 inthian, 1 but that doesn't count. After the first 
 act I sent up my card, but she wouldn't see me, 
 I left the theatre then and walked anywhere 
 everywhere." He looked down at his boots, " I 
 thought of going back and meeting her as she came 
 away I even reached Green Street ; then I changed 
 my mind. After all, it was her privilege to see me 
 or not as she pleased ; no man has the right to dog 
 a woman in a public place. I came here instead. 
 She has n't arrived ? " 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead walked back to the couch and sat 
 down. " Not as yet. The carriage meets her at a 
 quarter to twelve ; she seldom gets here before 
 a quarter past." 
 
 There was silence for a while. Strode walked to 
 the mantelpiece and stood with his back to it. His 
 hat was still in his hand, he stared down at it 
 vaguely. All the while his companion watched him 
 with vigilant eyes ; at last she spoke, tentatively and 
 very low. 
 
 " Have you looked in the glass to-night, Maurice ?" 
 
 He started, and laughed uneasily. " Oh, I know 
 what you mean ! I did see my face about three 
 hours ago. It looked exactly like my uncle's when 
 he's rowing the men or negotiating a big deal. 
 Queer things likenesses!"
 
 THE CIRCLE 259 
 
 There was a fresh pause. Three minutes passed, 
 then five. Mrs. Maxtead touched each of her rings 
 separately, drew one off, slipped it on again, then 
 tapped her book. "Maurice, if you have a spark 
 of consideration, say something ! I never put in a 
 ghastlier time of suspense than I have done to-night. 
 I dined in my own room, and sat there till the 
 furniture turned into ghosts ; I came for comfort to 
 the dining-room, and there Anna's picture stared 
 me out of countenance ; then I fled in here, but here 
 there was a ticking clock, warranted to drive one 
 frenzied in half an hour. I had just looked in a 
 drawer and opened the windows when you arrived. 
 Your knock on the front door but I won't say any- 
 thing about that I believe I understand at last 
 what people mean by nerves " She twisted her 
 book restlessly and tried to laugh. 
 
 Strode stood silent. 
 
 " Maurice ! " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Oh ! " She brought her hands together and the 
 book fell. "How dense you are! Why do you 
 stand there like a mute ? Is this mystery a disease ? 
 Does it hang about in germs ? I tell you I have 
 been breathing it in been living in it been 
 suffocated by it for four whole weeks. I feel like 
 annihilating the next person who looks at me blankly 
 and answers in a monosyllable." 
 
 Strode crossed the room and picked up the book. 
 " What do you want ? "" he asked.
 
 THE CIRCLE 
 
 She sat up straight and looked at him. "You 
 have seen Anna ; you know all there is to know. 
 What is the result?" 
 
 He walked to the window and, holding back the 
 blind, looked out. " If you want plain speaking."" he 
 said, " I have been in hell ever since." 
 
 Each word fell with distinct precision. For the 
 first time in a lengthy space of years Mrs. Maxtead's 
 guard of callousness lost its hold, and her feelings 
 swept across her face ; incredulity, astonishment, con- 
 tempt, each shook her visibly. At last she spoke 
 with bitter emphasis. 
 
 " How short-sighted we are, Maurice, when all is 
 reckoned up ! Only two days ago two little davs 
 ago I proposed to explain Anna's identity on half a 
 sheet of noiepaper." She laughed. 
 
 Strode looked back into the room. His silence 
 stung her afresh. 
 
 " I see, I overlooked the value you men set upon 
 yourselves ; I forgot that the nicest man, the very 
 nicest, grinds up into common clay in one particular 
 mill, the mill of his own conceit." 
 
 Strode passed his hand over his hair, then he 
 moved forward and stood looking down on her. 
 * Good God ! " he said quietly, " do I seem as big 
 a cad as that ? "" 
 
 She had avoided his eyes, now she looked quickly 
 up. She was not devoid of instinct, and her compre- 
 hension was clearer than that of most. With a sharp 
 movement she rose and put her hand on his shoulder.
 
 THE CIRCLE 261 
 
 ;t Maurice," she said, " I believe I have been a fool all 
 along ; I believe I have been taking the wrong turn- 
 ing. A man doesn't go down to hell because the 
 girl he loves has a great career ! " She searched his 
 face. 
 
 He looked at her evenly for a moment, then he 
 looked away. 
 
 "No," he said slowly, "that's right. But the 
 fires do lick him up when he sees the woman he 
 cares for suffering through his act ; when he faces 
 himself for three hours and realises that the good 
 has been taken out of her life by his folly, his want 
 of sight and sense. Good God ! what she has gone 
 through ! I feel like a murderer." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead's skin paled a little, her eyes looked 
 preternaturally bright. 
 
 4; Maurice, if I love a single human being, that 
 being is Anna. Can you be a little lucid in what 
 you say ? " 
 
 He moved to the side of the couch and sat on its 
 arm ; his knees were apart, his locked hands between 
 them ; his head was bent. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that you don't know ? " 
 he asked slowly. 
 
 She looked up. " I don't know a single thing." 
 
 His gaze dropped to the carpet. 
 
 " You know of Anna's antecedents of her past ? " 
 
 " Yes." She looked up again. 
 
 "Well " He raised his head and met her 
 eyes. " Well, by a very odd chance I knew of them
 
 262 THE CIRCLE 
 
 too unconnected with her, of course. And that 
 last night at Trescar " 
 
 Her lips paled slightly. 
 
 " Yes ? " she said. " Yes ? " 
 
 " That night I told her her own story, by way of 
 a romance names, places, everything and all, 
 all of it from the other side, the other point of view. 
 I had got hold of the other end. I suppose every 
 story, like every string, must have two ends r 
 
 He stopped brusquely, and the muscles showed in 
 his clasped hands. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead rose. " Poor child ! " she said 
 shortly. " Poor child ! " 
 
 " Oh, but that was n't alL I laid it on ; I saw 
 that the story was picturesque."" He laughed. " I 
 harped on the scene she had left the beggar eating 
 his heart out for her the poor old father with his 
 reason gone " 
 
 " Maurice ! " 
 
 " Did n't you know that ? The poor old father's 
 brain gave way when she left. I can't say that I 
 wonder much." 
 
 " Oh," she said, " I did n't know I did n't know 
 that." She rose, and crossing to the mantelpiece 
 leant her elbows on it. " And was that all ? " 
 
 Strode threw back his head. 
 
 "It's probably about half. All night I have 
 been trying to recall things ; but the more I harass 
 myself the blanker they get. One thing I 'm sure 
 of, though "
 
 THE CIRCLE 263 
 
 And that ?" 
 
 " That I gave my cursed personal opinion pretty 
 freely ; that I spoke of her as branded unfit for 
 honest minds to tolerate. Good God ! " 
 
 He rose again and walked to the window. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead said nothing. Her head was bent, 
 her arm rested heavily on the mantel-shelf. 
 
 There was a ponderous silence. Then at last she 
 looked up. 
 
 " Of course you have guessed that this belongs to 
 me that I was the motive power from the first? 
 That I played on her then have played on her 
 ever since ? In this world, Maurice, the blunt peo- 
 ple, like me, work things ; the sensitive people, like 
 Anna, pay the price. Doesn't it strike you some- 
 times that the world is out of gear ? " 
 
 Strode made no reply. He had turned from the 
 window, after a hasty glance into the roadway, and 
 stood again by the couch. 
 
 " Maurice, what did strike you when she came on 
 the stage ? I have a raging curiosity to know."" 
 
 For a moment his lips tightened ; then unaccount- 
 ably they relaxed. 
 
 "After all, why shouldn't I?" He raised his 
 head. "Why should n't I tell you ? You see, it 
 hangs like this. When a man fixes a prejudice in 
 his mind, he clings to it like grim death. It 's easy 
 and nice to have convictions and make theories about 
 a prejudice, because a prejudice does n't enter into 
 working life. Once reduce it to flesh and blood.
 
 264 THE CIRCLE 
 
 once give it a body and set it in the path a man 
 wants to walk, and it sings very small. All that I 
 said at Trescar that night was absolutely true at 
 the time. This woman was a prejudice to me had 
 been for years ; a peg to hang my theories on. But 
 to-night " He stopped and looked down, then 
 looked up again with his old alert glance. "To- 
 night all that died its allotted death. It took a 
 while to straighten things, but not so long as you 
 might have guessed. After all, there was only one 
 fact to be brought home : the fact that the prejudice 
 was Anna Anna the prejudice; the fact that, 
 right or wrong, past or present, she belongs to me. 
 Anna is Anna. You understand?" i , 
 
 She answered nothing for a moment. Then she 
 came towards him quickly ; but in the centre of the 
 room she stopped, her figure stiffened, she made a 
 gesture of silence. At the same instant Strode 
 looked towards the window. From the road outside 
 came the sound of a stopping carriage ; almost 
 simultaneously the electric bell whizzed through the 
 house under a lengthy pressure. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead laughed nervously, and moved back 
 to the glass above the mantlepiece. 
 
 "What a relief!" she said. "What an unspeak- 
 able relief! Do I look very demoralized, Maurice? 
 I always like to seem my best for Anna. Women 
 dress for each other, you know; that's a truism 
 that's quite correct." She talked very fast, without 
 any noticeable pause.
 
 THE CIRCLE 265 
 
 Strode looked a little pale through his sunburn. 
 He crossed to her and touched her arm. " Say,"" he 
 said, " do you think she 11 understand ? " 
 
 She laughed again. In the hall they heard the 
 door open. 
 
 " My dear man, I would n't mind standing in your 
 shoes there 's not much doubt as to their fit." 
 
 She stopped sharply, and they both turned round. 
 
 The curtain was drawn back, and the white light 
 from the hall streamed through into the room. In 
 the aperture stood Branks, his manner correct but 
 apologetic, his face slightly perturbed. 
 
 Strode was conscious of a quick undeniable appre- 
 hension ; the brightness died out of Mrs. Maxtead's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Well, Branks ? " she said in an even voice. 
 
 " Well, ma'am " Branks's eyes sought the 
 ceiling. 
 
 Strode took a step forward. " Out with it, man ! 
 Don't stand there gaping." 
 
 A purple shade crossed Branks's face. Ignoring 
 Strode, he turned to his mistress. 
 
 " As I was about to say, ma'am " 
 
 " Quite right, Branks. Go on." 
 
 " Bryan went to the theatre, ma'am, as usual, at a 
 quarter before twelve." 
 
 Strode walked the length of the- room, and stood 
 by the piano. 
 
 " He waited till five minutes past twelve, ma'am, 
 then he sent for the door-keeper."
 
 266 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Yes, Branks ? " 
 
 " Well, ma'am, the door-keeper, he said " 
 
 Strode lifted a silver ornament and laid it back 
 with a slight crash. 
 
 " Yes, Branks the door-keeper ? " Mrs. Max- 
 tead's voice was wonderfully still. 
 
 With an effort Branks collected his faculties. 
 
 " He said, ma'am, that Miss Solny had left the 
 theatre with her maid at twenty minutes before 
 twelve ; they drove off in a cab, ma'am, directly 
 Miss Solny left the stage. Bryan wishes to know, 
 ma'am, if you have any orders for him to-night?" 
 
 There was a pause. Branks looked discreetly 
 down. Mrs. Maxtead glanced apprehensively at 
 Strode. 
 
 " Thanks, Branks ; that is alL Tell Bryan he can 
 put up the horses." 
 
 Branks silently withdrew. 
 
 For an interval neither occupant of the room 
 stirred ; by mutual consent they avoided each other's 
 eyes. In the hall outside they caught the muttering 
 of subdued voices, then the shutting of the hall door. 
 A moment later, the sound of horses moving slowly 
 off came to them through the open window. 
 
 With an effort, Strode crossed the room and held 
 out his hand. Even in the lamplight his face looked 
 a trifle grey. 
 
 She glanced up and touched his hand. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 He looked at her abruptly.
 
 THE CIRCLE 267 
 
 " To every hotel within reach to-night ; to the 
 docks in the morning. 1 11 wire the slightest news. 
 Good-night ! " He drew away his hand and walked 
 to the door. 
 
 " Maurice ! " 
 
 He turned back. 
 
 She was leaning against the mantelpiece. Her 
 eyes gleamed ; there was a valiant attempt at irony 
 in the set of her lips, but her arms hung stiffly by 
 her sides. 
 
 " If I were the religious sort, Maurice, I should 
 want to say, ' God bless you. 1 You understand ? " 
 
 He stood irresolute for a second ; then he walked 
 back and took her hand again. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " I believe I do understand." 
 
 A minute later he was gone.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER j 
 
 IT was early forenoon, but the light that filterel 
 into the curio shop was so dim that only the 
 white Chinese vases that stood close to the 
 door were clearly discernible ; the shelves, 
 rising tier on tier along the walls, and filled for 
 the most part with Eastern cloths, seemed but so 
 many reflections of the gloom ; whiffs of hot air 
 came through the overshadowed doorway tiiid min- 
 gled with the scent of spice: the whoie atmos- 
 phere sanded the throat with a dry anxi enervating 
 warmth. 
 
 At the farther end of the shop JTohann was at- 
 tending to a customer ; in the scanty light his 
 pinched face was barely to be seen, i>ut as he moved 
 from place to place a stranger's ey* would have been 
 caught by the stoop, acquired of late years, that 
 added point and pathos to fois deformity. The 
 minutes passed ; the customer WAS, testy and hard to 
 please"; it was a hot day for bargaining, but Johann 
 was conscientious and buried himself in his task. 
 So absorbed did he become that when a new shadow 
 fell across the doorway, thnn drifted inward, and a 
 new figure entered the shop., he failed to notice it. 
 
 The new-comer entered softly. She was tall, so 
 tall that unconsciously, arid without real necessity,
 
 THE CIRCLE 269 
 
 she bent as she passed through the low door ; her 
 dress and hat were black and simply made, but with 
 the simplicity of marked distinction. In the first 
 instant she paused, but quickly gathering decision, 
 moved into the shadows on the right-hand side and 
 stood looking slowly round. Her survey was studied 
 and deliberate, but instantly it was completed .she let 
 her eyes droop, shivered a little nervously, then pulled 
 off her gloves with peculiar haste. 
 
 Seller and customer were engaged in an argument ; 
 neither thought of looking round. It was early day, 
 but as yet the sun had not made its tardy way into 
 Felt Street ; outside in the close air children played 
 on the cobbles, their cries and laughter and dis- 
 putes coming sharply audible ; inside the spicy smell 
 mingled overpoweringly with the heat, and Johannes 
 high-pitched voice, with its faint foreign intonation, 
 sounded glaringly real. 
 
 To the girl standing in the shadows it seemed that 
 the circle of life was complete. From the neutral 
 tints she had passed through every graduating shade 
 that existence can possess, revolving slowly past the 
 faint light tones of hope and expectation to the vivid 
 colours of actual fulfilment ; from the vivid colours 
 steadily and inevitably forward, to be confronted 
 once again by greyness and shadow. She put out 
 her hand and tentatively touched the bronze Buddha 
 that still held its place on the second shelf behind 
 the set of ivory chessmen. The dust came off thickly 
 on her finger ; she raised her hand in an unconscious
 
 270 THE CIRCLE 
 
 gesture and scanned the marks ; then quite swiftly 
 she let her arm drop. The customer's purchase was 
 made. 
 
 She heard his last gossiping word, his lingering 
 parting ; lastly, his slow movements as he passed her, 
 quietly oblivious of her existence, and disappeared 
 into the street. With the feeling of chill that 
 always assailed her in moments of nervousness, she 
 moved from the shadow and walked slowly into the 
 centre of the shop. 
 
 Johann had moved back into the partitioned desk ; 
 he saw through the imperfect glass that a new figure 
 had come into the shop ; with a slight sigh he pushed 
 back his chair. 
 
 " What can I do for you ? " he asked gently. 
 His voice was quiet, his face, as he turned it to- 
 wards her, caught a glint of light from the street, 
 and with a quiver of realisation she saw his features 
 distinctly the patient eyes, the drooping mouth, 
 the mark of the old scar running from eyebrow to 
 temple. 
 
 She laid her hand heavily on the counter. 
 
 He looked at her, but without recognition. 
 
 She moved a little, and a faint scent of violets was 
 carried to him on the hot air. The silence was 
 strained. 
 
 He in his turn shifted his position. " What can 
 I do for you ? *" he said again. 
 
 Her fingers pressed the counter; then quite 
 abruptly she lifted her head.
 
 THE CIRCLE 271 
 
 " One thing, Johann. Forgive me, if it 's not toe 
 late. 11 
 
 Johann drew back against the piled-up uniforms 
 that were stacked behind the counter, precisely as 
 other uniforms had been stacked in other days. He 
 covered his face with his hands ; then at last he 
 looked up. " Anna ! " he said in a blind way. 
 " Anna ! " At the repetition of the word his breath 
 failed. 
 
 The girl bent forward, leaning across the counter. 
 " Yes," she said hurriedly ; " Anna after all the 
 years, after everything."" She suddenly crouched 
 lower, laying her face against the shining wood. 
 
 Twice he moved from the pile of uniforms and 
 twice retreated ; twice he passed his hand agitatedly 
 across his mouth ; then finally grasping his determi- 
 nation, he came forward and touched her shoulder. 
 
 " There never was anything to forgive,"" he said. 
 
 Her head remained bent. She was not crying, 
 but a silent agitation, quite incomprehensible to the 
 man, was shaking her almost as tears might have 
 done. 
 
 His fingers pressed her arm deprecatingly. 
 "Don't! 1 ' he said. "Don't! It's all right, all 
 quite right." 
 
 She raised her head and drew herself slowly 
 upright ; then her lips opened in silent surprise. 
 Johann's voice, low and uneven though it was, had 
 not prepared her for his altered face. The change 
 was very marked ; even in the dimness of the shop
 
 272 THE CIRCLE 
 
 his sudden joy seemed to radiate from him and sur- 
 round him like a light ; the shadow was gone from 
 his eyes, even his shrunken figure had gained new 
 dignity. He carried himself soberly, but with the 
 pride of a believer whose faith has been justified. 
 
 He looked at her confidently, as a child might 
 have done ; then turned to the desk, opened it and 
 drew out a slate ; this he carried back and laid on 
 the counter. 
 
 " See ! " he said gently. " I always knew 
 always."" 
 
 Anna glanced away, then turned again and gazed 
 at him searchingly. " How did you know ? " 
 
 " How ? You wrote it." He pointed to the 
 slate. 
 
 Anna turned and walked the length of the shop. 
 There is some faith before which we stand aghast. 
 At the street door she turned again and mored 
 slowly back. 
 
 " Johann, there is something I want to say now, 
 at the very first." The warmth was oppressive ; she 
 passed her hand over her forehead. " I 'm not like 
 what you think. I forgot for whole years I quite 
 forgot ; even lately, when I realised, when some one 
 told me of of him " She indicated the rooms 
 overhead. 
 
 Johann made a step towards her, but she warned 
 him back. 
 
 " When somebody told me of him, and I realised, 
 even then even then, I fought to the last day, till
 
 THE CIRCLE 273 
 
 the very last hour. It was only then, Johann, when 
 every other way was absolutely barred, that I made 
 up my mind. Last night I finished an engagement 
 here in London, and after the play I drove away from 
 the theatre with my maid ; we stayed the night in a 
 lodging, and this morning I paid her .and let her go. 
 Nobody knows what IVe done nobody not a 
 single soul." She paused excitedly and clasped her 
 hands behind her. "It's a great comfort to talk, 
 Johann, just to say things to someone ; I have been 
 silent for such a long, long time." She passed back- 
 wards and forwards across the shop. 
 
 Johann's eyes never left her face. " But you are 
 glad to be back ? Glad to be home ? " His eager- 
 ness trembled in his voice. 
 
 "Of course! Of course ! " She turned to him 
 with sharp unnecessary emphasis; then, fearing to 
 pause on the words, she went on again. " I have 
 done everything for the best, Johann everything ; 
 I have broken faith with no one. I have finished my 
 engagements to the last night ; I have paid every 
 bill ; I have transferred all my money from my own 
 bank account to Mrs. Maxtead's all except three 
 hundred pounds that I have spared for him for him 
 and for you." She glanced upwards again. " Don't 
 you think, Johann, that any one that even a very, 
 very strict person, with very hard and strict ideas, 
 would say that I have done well ? That I have done 
 as well as I could do now, at the last?" She 
 waited anxiously for his reply. 
 
 18
 
 274 THE CIRCLE 
 
 He gazed at her in faint bewilderment. " Of course 
 you have done well." 
 
 She laughed nervously and lifted the edge of her 
 hat where it pressed her hair. " Thanks, Johann ! 
 I 'm so glad. I Ve been waiting ages to hear some- 
 body say just those words ; they reassure me very 
 much." She leant back against the counter, excite- 
 ment and fatigue showing in her eyes. 
 
 Johann stepped towards her. "You are very 
 tired," he said. " I have never seen any one look so 
 tired. Will you rest ? Will you come upstairs ? 
 Your own room " His tone was deprecating. 
 " Your own little room is just as it used to be ; I 
 have cleaned it every day " 
 
 For an instant her face paled and she turned 
 away ; then she mastered herself. " Thanks, Johann ! 
 I will see my room. But first, don't you think ? " 
 Once more her eyes sought the ceiling. 
 
 He half extended his hand. " Oh no," he said, 
 "not now not just now; you are too tired " 
 
 She met his gaze excitedly. " Yes, Johann, now 
 now, this minute ; I want everything in one rush ; I 
 want to know the worst all the very worst. I have 
 quite, quite, quite finished with suspense ; I have 
 burnt all my stupid boats ; I shall never make dreams 
 about things any more never any more " Her 
 voice rose, fell, then half broke. 
 
 Johannes smile faded again to perplexity ; he 
 moved from one foot to the other, then once more 
 he touched her arm.
 
 THE CIRCLE 275 
 
 " But you are glad to be back ? You are glad to 
 be home ? " 
 
 She steadied herself and looked at him. "This 
 is the only place in the world, Johann, that has 
 room for me ; please believe that. Now we '11 go 
 upstairs."
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER II 
 
 I 
 
 stairs, with their steep unevenness, 
 had always appeared narrow ; to Anna, 
 after a lapse of eight years, they seemed 
 dwarfed. As she mounted slowly, her 
 right shoulder brushed the bare dark wall, while 
 with every slight movement her left arm touched 
 the shaky bannister. She followed Johann steadily, 
 her lips set, her head held very high ; the same sup- 
 pressed force that had possessed her for four weeks 
 was discernible in every gesture, almost in every 
 breath. A very close observer might have trembled 
 for the inevitable collapse. 
 
 The woodwork strained and creaked; a frill of 
 her skirt caught on a nail and tore. Johann paused 
 and bent, but she anticipated him, and, stooping, 
 wrenched off the strip of silk. Then the ascent 
 went on. 
 
 On the landing there was more light ; and on the 
 landing for the first time her courage quailed. She 
 put out her hand and pulled Johannes sleeve 
 
 " Johann, what does he look like ? " She leant 
 back for a second against the wall. 
 
 He raised his eyes. " Not terrible at all very 
 eld and very thin ; nothing more. 1 '
 
 THE CIRCLE 277 
 
 She drew in her breath slowly, her face showed 
 pale against the blackness of the wall. " Will he 
 know me, do you think ? " 
 
 There was a silence. 
 
 "You are changed. 11 Johann spoke with hesitation. 
 
 She passed her hand over her eyes, then looked 
 up. " I suppose I am ; it was right to remind me. 
 Go into the room first. I'll stand outside and see him 
 without his seeing me ; afterwards 1 11 decide what ""s 
 best to do. Now, Johann, please "" She lifted 
 her hat again with the same nervous gesture, as 
 if it weighed upon her; and Johann crossed the 
 corridor. 
 
 Round old Solny's door the shadows fell again 
 thickly. As Johann touched the handle Anna 
 caught his arm. 
 
 " Wait ! " she said. 
 
 He paused obedient. 
 
 She moved back towards the head of the stairs, 
 then retraced her steps ; her movements were uneven 
 and indirect. " It 's a terrible moment, Johann." 
 
 Johann moved from one foot to the other. 
 
 She leant back once more against the wall and 
 closed her eyes ; at last she straightened herself. 
 
 " Now, Johann, please " Her voice was like an 
 echo of itself. 
 
 There was a moment of suspense, then the door 
 swung open with a creak. Johann moved slowly for- 
 ward, and Anna, with a feeling of dizzy weakness, 
 leant against the lintel on the darker side.
 
 278 THE CIRCLE 
 
 The room corresponded in size to the parlour 
 downstairs ; and the sun that in the morning fell 
 full on the back of the house, was streaming through 
 the low open window, causing the motes to dance 
 in its shafts. The carpetless floor was very clean ; 
 the piles of books and odd-shaped boxes stored on 
 window-seat and floor were arranged with an eye to 
 order ; and the high bed with its one upright occu- 
 pant, was in itself an evidence of care. With an 
 unconscious thrill Anna acknowledged the patient 
 pathetic duty it all portrayed; then her senses 
 merged to one interest ; clasping her hands, she 
 leant forward in absolute quiet. 
 
 In the narrow bed, sitting stiffly up, and supported 
 by a bolster bent in two, sat old Solny. In the 
 bright sunlight his face had a yellow tinge ; the hol- 
 lowness of his cheeks and the bones in his hands 
 were startlingly noticeable; across his knees, from 
 side to side of the bed, ran a deal board forming a 
 ledge, and raised upon this to a tolerable height was 
 a card-house, erected with infinite care. As the door 
 opened he placed the last card a much-thumbed 
 ace and without looking up raised his hand 
 warningly. 
 
 Johann tiptoed across the room and stood beside 
 the bed ; very slowly Solny raised his head and 
 smiled in a vacant way. 
 
 "Zenia has gone out," he said, alluding to the 
 wife who had been dead for more than twenty 
 years. " Zenia has gone out and has left the
 
 THE CIRCLE 279 
 
 little one to me."" He indicated the other side of 
 the bed. "We have been amusing each other; 
 I have built her a house of cards. Be careful, 
 Johann ! A house of cards is easily upset."" 
 
 Anna's fingers dropped apart. 
 
 Johann passed his hand across his face and looked 
 fiirtively towards the door. " The day is fine, mas- 
 ter. Will you get up and sit by the window ? " 
 
 Solny eyed him meditatively. ''Perhaps," he 
 said "Perhaps when Zenia returns. Till then 
 I will stay like this. I am tired and beside, it is 
 easier to amuse the little one from here. There is 
 too much sun in the window ; it makes me want to 
 sleep, and that would never do. Would it, little 
 one ? " He put out his arm with a pitifully gentle 
 motion and appeared to touch something a head 
 or a hand visible to him alone. 
 
 " She grows, Johann, eh ? " 
 
 Johann shuffled with his feet. 
 
 " She grows ? She will be tall as tall as he/ 
 mother, but never so beautiful." 
 
 " She will be very tall, master." 
 
 " So ! " Solny nodded once or twice and quietlj 
 altered the top storey of his card-house. From long 
 practice he had brought the feat of balancing to 
 much perfection ; though of late there were mo- 
 ments when even the pasteboard squares seemed 
 too heavy for his emaciated hands, and he was 
 forced to rest many times before even the simplest 
 *;nu'tnr? was complete.
 
 280 THE CIRCLE 
 
 Anna's heart contracted as she watched. The 
 wofully thin wrists, the aged face from which all 
 the old querulousness had departed, cut deeper and 
 surer than any spoken reproach. 
 
 Arranging the cards with slow deliberation, he 
 began to talk again, raising his eyes from time to 
 time to his listener's face. 
 
 " A child is a responsibility, Johann. We often 
 talk of that Zenia and I. We see her here a 
 baby able to smile and eat and cry, and no 
 more ; and yet, Johann, one day one day not 
 so very far away " His interest flagged ; his 
 voice faltered ; then he looked up freshly, his un- 
 balanced mind swinging to a fresh point. 
 
 " The country ? " he said suddenly. " How does 
 the country look to-day ? I see so little from my 
 window just the black tree-trunks of the verandah, 
 and beyond, the purple and crimson of the plums and 
 the cherries, and I want more, Johann, I want to 
 see more. 1 " He took up a card, straightened it and 
 laid it in place. "I want to see the land curve 
 up and down. I want to see the maples in full 
 leaf and the steppe grass swinging in the wind 
 till the star-thistles show. That 's what I want, 
 Johann that 's what makes the blood flow. " He 
 smiled again uncertainly ; then a still newer expres- 
 sion flitted over his eyes. 
 
 " The window-shutters ? " he said. " Are the 
 window-shutters in repair, should a storm break ? " 
 
 Anna put her hand to her throat. The still air
 
 THE CIRCLE 281 
 
 seemed to stagnate. She felt enmeshed in an over- 
 powering dream. 
 
 " Have you seen to the window-shutters, Johann ? " 
 
 Johann turned away. " Not yet, master not as 
 yet. Later, if you wish " 
 
 Solny raised his hand gently. " You must never 
 neglect your duty, Johann. Duty is the great pre- 
 cept. We must set an example to the little Anna 
 we three ; soon she will be big enough to under- 
 stand. Eh, little one ? " He extended his hand 
 afresh, and his vague eyes suddenly filled with 
 tears. " She is the little sunbeam, Johann, eh ? 
 Even in the long winter she will make a light ? " 
 
 Johann said nothing. From the shadows in the 
 passage came a rustling stir. 
 
 " What is that ? Is that Zenia ? " Solny started 
 up, and the card-house fell; then he sank weakly 
 back. 
 
 Johann laid his hand soothingly on the coverlet. 
 " It is nothing, master nothing the cat after a 
 mouse." His words were disjointed. In great trepi- 
 dation he walked across the room. As he stepped 
 hurriedly on to the landing and drew the door to, 
 Solny's voice came again, wavering and plaintive. 
 
 " Johann, I want Zenia. I want my wife.""
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER III 
 
 IN the corridor Anna caught Johann's arm and 
 drew him to the head of the rickety stairs. 
 There she released him, and stood leaning 
 against the bannister. Her face was without 
 colour and her eyes looked dark. It was a moment 
 before she spoke ; then her voice sounded distant 
 and subdued. 
 
 " Johann," she said, " he is dying. I know it 
 perfectly well. I have never seen death, but I know 
 it I can feel it. His face is like a lamp with the 
 wick dying down. It 's terrible ! Terrible ! " 
 
 Johann's face paled. " I see no change,"" he 
 stammered. " He has looked like that for months 
 and months. He is a little thinner, perhaps a 
 little weaker, but it is nothing to count. 1 " 
 Anna threw up her head. 
 
 " That's it! That's it! You see him every 
 day ; you don't mark the little changes the little 
 signs. Why did nobody tell me? Why did no- 
 body send for me ? It was n't right ; it was n't 
 kind." She swayed a little to and fro. 
 
 Johann stood in an agony of perplexity. " It is 
 because of his mind," he urged at last ; " because of 
 the difference between what he thinks and what he
 
 THE CIRCLE 283 
 
 looks. He believes himself a young man, married a 
 few years, still in his home in Russia. It is because 
 of the difference the strangeness of the difference 
 - that you see him as you do. Anna, believe 
 me ' He used her name in perturbed haste. 
 
 She made an excited gesture. " I see just the 
 truth just the plain terrible truth. I must go to 
 him at once." 
 
 Johann started forward, putting out his hand. 
 " But the shock to him and to you," he said. " You 
 are so changed." He looked at her with swift, mute 
 admiration. " You are so so very changed." 
 
 She pushed past him. " He must know me, 
 Johann. He is my father." 
 
 " But your dress your face ? " 
 
 " My dress ! My dress is black he will see 
 nothing beyond that. As for my face, I can take 
 off my hat it is my hat that makes the difference. 1 * 
 With shaking fingers she drew out her hat-pins. 
 
 Johann cleared his throat. " But if he doesn't 
 know you ? " 
 
 " He must know me." 
 
 But if he does n't?" 
 
 " Well ? " She threw her hat aside. 
 
 "You won't ? It won't ?" In his fear 
 and anxiety for her he drew nearer by a step. 
 
 She had moved on into the shadows, but she turned 
 shortly. " Oh, I 'm not thinking of myself," she said. 
 
 There was a moment of strung suspense ; then she 
 moved forward and the door of the bedroom creaked.
 
 284 THE CIRCLE 
 
 For an appreciable time Johann and Anna stood 
 side by side in the open doorway. For an instant 
 Johann shut his eyes, but for an instant only. The 
 fear of seeing was outweighed by the fear of not see- 
 ing. He raised his lids gradually, and stood with 
 suspended breath. 
 
 The light from the early day encircled the whole 
 room. There were no shadows, no dark corners 
 suggestive of suspense. To the dimmest eye all that 
 there was to see was seen at once sharp, uncom- 
 promising, and plain. 
 
 Anna stood for an instant longer. Her head was 
 at its highest, her resolution strained almost to 
 defiance. Once Johann heard her gasp ; then, with 
 great rapidity, she moved straight forward and 
 paused silently at the foot of the bed. 
 
 The wait that followed was momentous. Solny 
 raised himself, staring with dim eyes. The silence 
 was dead in its intensity. The remaining cards slid 
 one after the other from the coverlet to the floor 
 each one dropping with the sound of rain on a 
 zinc roof. Johann moistened his lips and looked 
 towards Anna. She was still rigid, her eyes on her 
 father's eyes. 
 
 Solny raised himself further : his worn face had a 
 greenish hue ; his limbs shook ; in his glance there 
 was question question and nothing more. 
 
 Anna's lips formed themselves to speak ; but all 
 at once, as ice might break, a light showed in the 
 old man's face : it flared for a second, then the ter-
 
 THE CIRCLE 285 
 
 ji'^le vague solemnity of the features suddenly 
 i elaxed. With a broken sound that was neither cry 
 nor entreaty, and yet partook of both, he held out 
 his arms. 
 
 " Zenia ! " he said ; " my wife ! " I 
 
 Johannes feelings burst from him in an inarticulate 
 word. Anna made no sound. 
 
 Solny's voice rose again. "My wife!" he said. 
 " Zenia ! " His speech had a new ring : it carried 
 and vibrated with an inflection that neither listener 
 had heard before. 
 
 Still in silence Anna moved forward. Her face 
 was drawn, but she moved on ; her steps dragged, 
 but never faltered ; slowly she passed round the bed. 
 
 Johaun, by the door, felt a lump rise in his throat. 
 
 Solny still held out his arms, the new light illu- 
 mining his face. " My wife ! " he said again. 
 
 There was a faint interval a faint hesitation, as 
 if all existence hung in wait. Above the bed a fly 
 whizzed in a cobweb ; through the window came the 
 hum of distant voices, the sound of carts on the 
 cobbles of Enbury Street. Anna hung back, swayed 
 forward, then was caught in her father's arms. 
 
 No one spoke, for there was no room for speech ; 
 but very quietly, almost reverently, Johann withdrew, 
 closing the door. 
 
 At the same moment, sharp and imperative, the 
 shop bell rang through tire house.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER 
 
 JOHANN descended the stairs slowly. Tense 
 and vividly surprising as the scene upstairs 
 had been, his mind, once beyond its atmos- 
 phere, was speedily engrossed by other thoughts. 
 The strange possibilities opened up by Solny's hal- 
 lucination seemed to his simple mind to be in some 
 sense predestined a curious compensating arrange- 
 ment planned from the first by Fate, to be left with 
 all confidence in Fate's hands. To him personally 
 one fact one pressing fact rose above all life, 
 dominating it the fact that Anna had returned. 
 As a child, he had loved her with the vague spec- 
 ulative adoration of a romantic mind ; as a mythical 
 being removed from him by the world and yet be- 
 longing to his life, he had worshipped her as a saint ; 
 now for the first time he saw her as a woman, and 
 his brain swam. She was his to shelter and slave for 
 and wait upon his to hold against all the world. 
 His love welled up, brimming, overflowing. For the 
 first time in years his eyes looked on life from a 
 personal standpoint. His blood quickened, and he 
 straightened himself, casting off the stoop that a 
 decade of disappointment and self-effacement had 
 added to his deformity. But at the door leading
 
 THE CIRCLE 287 
 
 into the shop he halted, and subdued his expression ; 
 his triumph was too new an acquisition to be shared. 
 
 In the shop a man was standing with his back to 
 the counter; even in the imperfect light his figure 
 showed erect and talL As Johann entered he 
 started forward, and in three steps reached his side. 
 
 Johann looked up, his face lighting with surprise. 
 " Good-day, sir," he said in a carefully subdued 
 voice. 
 
 " Good-day ? Strode's voice was level and concise. 
 
 " You are back in town, sir ? "" Johann strove to 
 seem usual. At sight of a friend his triumph beat 
 up afresh, so strong and assertive that he almost 
 feared it ; but the danger passed. His was not a 
 chance fact to be flung at the head of even a friend ; 
 it was a precious truth, to be treasured secretly and 
 doled out carefully when the time came. He longed 
 inordinately to hear Strode's steady voice quicken 
 with surprise and congratulation ; but meanwhile the 
 hidden knowledge was very sweet. 
 
 " You are back in town, sir ? "" he said again. 
 
 Strode was silent. Together they moved to the 
 counter, and Johann passed inside. The younger 
 man walked a step or two into the shop, then 
 turned sharply. He came back to his former place ; 
 but this time he faced the counter, and leaning for- 
 ward, placed his elbows on it. His face looked older 
 by* several degrees than it had done the night before ; 
 his skin still gave the curious impression of pallor 
 under tan ; but his eyes had never been more clear.
 
 288 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " Look here, 1 " he said at last ; " I have n't come 
 to talk. I 've come to tell you something and ask 
 you something; and there's one fact I want you 
 to keep in mind ; that first to last I 'm treating you 
 level treating you man to man."" He took off his 
 hat and laid it on the counter ; his manner was very 
 quiet. 
 
 Johann was puzzled ; he even felt a momentary 
 compunction at his own irrepressible happiness. He 
 leant back against the glass of the desk, the shadows 
 of the woodwork falling heavily about his face. " It 
 would be strange if I thought differently, sir, 11 he 
 said ; " you have always been like that."" 
 
 Strode's eyes tried to pierce the gloom. " I 'm 
 glad you think so. It makes it easier for me to start." 
 He moved slightly, but the expression of his face did 
 not change. " It 's about your master's daughter." 
 
 A shock of feeling ran through Johann, raising 
 wild echoes, touching unguessed depths. He passed 
 his hand carefully across his mouth. 
 
 " The master's daughter ! " He was no actor ; but 
 love and the instinct of self can make a man any- 
 thing. All his new emotions leaped in surprise and 
 fear ; he drew farther back into the dusk. 
 
 Strode watched him eagerly but the light was im- 
 possible. " Some men," he said at length, " would 
 feel justified in coming here and springing a question 
 on you ; in another circumstance I 'd probably feel 
 justified myself, but not in this. I've always felt 
 tli.ifc Fate has played you a good many shabby tricks,
 
 THE CIRCLE 289 
 
 and somehow somehow I 'd rather not copy Fate. 11 
 He stopped and smoothed his hair. 
 
 Johann waited in fascinated quiet. 
 
 "To come to the point, things stand like this. 
 Some time ago I met your master's daughter, where 
 or how does n't signify ; anyhow, I admired her 
 she liked me and we became friends." For the 
 first time Strode spoke fast. " For some weeks she 
 has been acting here in town at the 'Corinthian' 
 Theatre. Last night she finished her engagement, 
 and last night, after the play was over, she did n't 
 come home as usual to the house where she was 
 staying she disappeared, you understand.' 1 He 
 leant forward and scanned the other's face ; his man- 
 ner was very still, but the muscles showed in his 
 hands as they had done the night before. 
 
 Johann never stirred. 
 
 Strode's glance concentrated. " Say something ! ** 
 he exclaimed suddenly. " Don't hang back like that. 
 Have n't you anything to say ? " 
 
 Johann gathered his ideas with difficulty. " What 
 am I to say, sir ? For us she disappeared eight 
 years ago." 
 
 Strode raised himself : he seemed to find his next 
 sentence difficult. He began it twice, each time in 
 a different form ; then breaking off short, he started 
 for the third time, and very fast. 
 
 "Perhaps I've not made matters clear enough." 
 Again he passed his hand across his hair. " We 
 Mrs. Maxtead and her other friends we are 
 
 19
 
 2SO THE CIRCLE 
 
 anxious we are desperately anxious " For the 
 first time he stressed his words, for the first time the 
 raging eagerness beneath showed through his calm. 
 
 Johannes lips closed slowly ; he glanced apprehen- 
 sively at the parlour door. " Why are her friends so 
 very anxious ? " was all he said. 
 
 Strode straightened his shoulders. " Because for 
 weeks she has been in great trouble great mental 
 trouble. Can^t you grasp what I 'm driving at ? " 
 He suddenly lifted his head. "A woman like that 
 does n't take such a step without very goading rea- 
 sons. With such a woman very goading reasons 
 might drive to to anything. 1 ' He stopped. 
 
 Johannes mind was working hard. Suspense is an 
 unyielding power. " Once," he said shrewdly, " you 
 did n't speak so of the master's daughter ; once you 
 were bitter when you spoke of her." 
 
 Strode made an impatient sound. " Once ! " he 
 said. " Oh, it 's easy to have been bitter once." 
 He moved again into the middle of the shop. 
 
 " And now ? " For the universe Johann could 
 not have restrained the words. 
 
 "Now I love her." 
 
 Johann turned rigid ; the voice sank through his 
 consciousness like running lead. 
 
 Strode wheeled back to the counter and to his 
 former place. He glanced as before at his com- 
 panion's face ; but either the surge of individual 
 feeling dulled his gaze, or Johann was more inscru- 
 table than ever, for he observed nothing.
 
 THE CIRCLE 291 
 
 " That 's what I call being straight with you," he 
 said. " There 's no need to tell you that I love her, 
 but I want to ; it seems more fair. She sort of 
 belonged here, and you Ve a claim to know. I love 
 her in the right way in the way that holds. I Ve 
 loved her since I saw her first." 
 
 Johann moistened his lips. "And she? Does 
 she love you ? " 
 
 Strode looked towards the street. " That," he 
 said quietly, " we won't discuss. We 11 let it stand 
 that I love her." 
 
 " We all do that," said Johann fiercely. 
 
 Strode looked slowly back. " I expect you 're 
 about right," he said. 
 
 For a moment he stayed silent, his hands on the 
 counter, but only for a moment. With a sharp 
 upward glance he began to speak again. 
 
 " Now that I Ve been square, 1 11 come to the 
 point. Is she here ? " 
 
 There was a pause, but a pause no bigger than a 
 breathing space. Johann looked down, then looked 
 up ; all through his body his nerves twitched. His 
 eyes rose slowly, and slowly rested on his companion's 
 face. In the uncertain light Strode's features showed 
 finely cut and strong. His grey eyes were alert ; 
 about his mouth anxiety and courage had set new 
 and firmer lines ; in every detail the contrast be- 
 tween the two men was cruel and sharp. Johann 
 looked long and steadily, the contrast sinking into 
 his mind very deep ; then, like a river long retarded
 
 292 THE CIRCLE 
 
 or a wind suddenly loosed, all his love so repressed, 
 so stored up, broke upon him in a flood. For the 
 first time he understood jealousy in all its ungovern- 
 able force. He looked his questioner up and down, 
 then he answered steadily enough. 
 
 " I have not seen the master's daughter for eight 
 years." 
 
 Strode paled noticeably, then rallied his courage. 
 " Then she has written," he said confidently. " She 
 must have written. Speak out, man ! Don't keep 
 me in suspense." 
 
 Johann's eyes dropped. " No, sir ; she has not 
 written." 
 
 Strode walked to the shop door, then back again. 
 
 '* You 're treating me straight ? As straight as I 
 treated you?" 
 
 Johann nodded. 
 
 Strode passed his hand once again over his hair ; 
 for the moment he felt at bay. " I 'm not calling 
 you a liar," he said at last ; " but there are times 
 when a man doubts even himself. Will you swear 
 to me, God's truth, that what you 've said is true ? " 
 
 Johann returned his glance. " God's truth ! " he 
 said, and his tongue clicked against the roof of his 
 mouth. 
 
 For an interval neither spoke. The elder moved 
 uneasily from foot to foot ; the younger stood quite 
 still At last the latter drew out a card, wrote on it, 
 and laid it on the counter. 
 
 "I've left my club," he said; "I'll be at these
 
 THE CIRCLE 293 
 
 rooms indefinitely. Come to me at any time any 
 hour. Sooner or later she must come here; I'm 
 certain of that." 
 
 He picked up his hat, turned abruptly, and walked 
 to the door. Under the low arch he stopped and 
 looked back. 
 
 "Look here," he said, "you know what a shred 
 of news would have meant to you eight years 
 ago." 
 
 Johann answered nothing ; but nodding slowly, he 
 picked up the card.
 
 PART THREE CHA P TEE V 
 
 WHEN Strode left the shop, Johann 
 wiped his forehead, breathed deeply, 
 and, leaning back against the parti- 
 tion of the desk, stood for a long time 
 in perfect quiet. The stifling heat of the day, made 
 mre oppressive in the narrow street, insured him 
 against further customers ; he had nothing beyond 
 his own disturbed thoughts to harass his mind. 
 Once only he changed his position, and then it was 
 to hide Strode's card in an inner pocket. Having 
 done this, he returned to his huddled attitude, gazing 
 with blank eyes at the space of counter with its shin- 
 ing wood. 
 
 After half an hour of sultry quiet there was a sound 
 in the parlour ; with a jerk he started upright, a dull 
 red passing over his face and dying slowly out. 
 When the door opened, and Anna came into the 
 shop, he had regained his usual look of suppressed 
 quiet. 
 
 Her face was still pale, though not with themarred 
 pallor of tears ; her hair was ruffled, and her eyelids 
 looked heavy and dark. Without a word she came 
 across the dividing space and sat down on an old 
 leather trunk.
 
 THE CIRCLE 295 
 
 " He is asleep now," she said ; " but he looks so 
 thin so terribly thin. I was afraid to watch him 
 any more." 
 
 Johann took a frayed cushion from a shelf and 
 shook off the dust. 
 
 " All old people look like that when they are 
 asleep." 1 He came round the counter. " Sit on this ; 
 it will be more comfortable. 11 
 
 She took the cushion, but made no effort to 
 rise. 
 
 " Do they, Johann always ? " 
 
 " Always. 11 
 
 She sighed, only half satisfied, and the anxious 
 look lingered in her eyes. At last she glanced 
 up. 
 
 " Is n't it like the irony of life, to come back too 
 late? Isn't it dealing out retribution to an inch, 
 that I, who forgot my father, should be forgotten 
 by him ? " 
 
 Johann touched her shoulder hastily. " Be pa- 
 tient," he said ; " be patient a little. To-morrow 
 in a few days he will know you. 11 
 
 She shook her head. " No, he will never know 
 me never never. I feel it through and through, 
 I know it. 11 She clasped her hands. 
 
 Johann's lips tightened apprehensively. " But 
 you are glad to be back? You are glad to be 
 home?" He searched her face. 
 
 " Of course, Johann ; of course. 11 She put out her 
 hand and half touched his ; then she suddenly rose,
 
 296 THE CIRCLE 
 
 and walking across the shop, stood by the opposite 
 shelves. 
 
 Johannes eyes devoured her. 
 
 Presently, with her face averted, she spoke again. 
 " Johann," she said, " I have been missed by now ; 
 my friends must be looking for me. Some of them " 
 she stopped for an instant " just a very few of 
 them know of this place ; and it 's possible not 
 very likely, but possible that some of them one 
 of them may come here." She spoke very fast. 
 
 Johann felt his breath catch. " You mean the 
 woman who took you away ? "" 
 
 She coloured suddenly. " I mean any one." 
 
 There was an uneasy wait ; then she looked up. 
 " Should they come, Johann should any one 
 come, you will tell me at once ? " 
 
 The heat in the shop was excessive ; Johann 
 wiped his forehead afresh. "Yes, I will tell you." 
 
 His tone struck her ; she moved a little towards 
 him. " No one has come ? No one has come while 
 I have been upstairs ? " 
 
 " No." He felt his tongue rasp as it had done 
 when Strode put him on his oath, but his voice 
 came steadily enough. 
 
 " You are sure ? Quite sure ? " 
 
 He moved uncertainly, deprecation and pain pass- 
 ing over his face. 
 
 Misreading his glance, she moved towards him with 
 swift compunction. " Johann, forgive me ; please 
 forgive me. I didn't mean to doubt."
 
 THE CIRCLE 297 
 
 There was a fresh pause. Johann picked up the 
 cushion from where it had fallen and placed it on 
 the trunk. Anna sat down again wearily, resting 
 against the counter. 
 
 " It is so hot,"" she said, " and my head aches ; I 
 had no sleep last night." 
 
 He watched her jealously as she leant back 
 with shut eyes. " Will you eat ? " he suggested 
 nervously. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "Will you drink some tea? You used to like 
 the tea." In his eagerness his fingers twitched. 
 
 She lifted her lids; for the first time since her 
 arrival she smiled, though the smile was very 
 shadowy and weak. 
 
 Johannes heart bounded, and his face flushed. 
 
 " Will you, please ? " 
 
 She looked slowly up. " It sounds nice," she said. 
 " I thought I should never want to eat again ; but a 
 real Russian cup of tea." 
 
 He came forward ; his eyes almost shone. In his 
 face deference and adoration, awe and eagerness, all 
 strove for place. " It will only be one moment," he 
 said; "one moment and no more. The kettle 
 always waits." 
 
 She tried to smile again, but with small success. 
 " You must n't spoil me, Johann." 
 
 His face glowed. He moved laggingly towards 
 the parlour door, and with his hand on the curtain, 
 paused.
 
 298 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " And you are glad to be home ? " The question 
 was irrepressible, it had sunk into his brain ; in an 
 hour it had become the key-stone of his being, the 
 symbol of hope and of apprehension, of perfect joy 
 and complete fear. He asked it with his soul in his 
 voice. 
 
 It struck to Anna's heart with a chill. She shiv- 
 ered slightly in the heat of the shop ; the heavy 
 spicy smell, the breathless atmosphere, the cramped 
 musty house, all crushed her tangibly. A sharp 
 terror of the future assailed her ; a horrible sense of 
 captivity. She rose again. 
 
 " Johann," she said, " don't ask me any more ; 
 I 'm not capable of answering not capable of 
 understanding even, just now. I 'm like a clock 
 that 's wound up to its highest pitch : sometime I 
 may run down, but now I 'm strung up wound 
 up, and everything I do corresponds to that." She 
 stood by the counter, where Strode had stood, look- 
 ing fixedly before her. 
 
 ** Some time ago, Johann, I saw myself for the 
 first time, as I really am selfish, thoughtless, 
 hateful." 
 
 He moved forward in dismay, but she motioned 
 him back. 
 
 " No ; let me go on. I saw myself masquerad- 
 ing in unfair success a fraud that people would 
 despise if they really understood a fraud tolerated 
 through ignorance. I saw that the world had no real 
 place for me, so I left the world ; I felt that my duty
 
 THE CIRCLE 299 
 
 was here, so I came here. As yet, I 'm glad of nothing 
 and I regret nothing I feel nothing. I 'm like the 
 miracle-worker waiting for a sign." She tried to 
 laugh. 
 
 Johann caught at her last words. " Waiting ? " 
 he said. "Waiting for what?" 
 
 She looked towards the outer door. " Nothing," 
 she said. 
 
 The suspicious spark gleamed again in his eyes. 
 " It is impossible to wait for nothing." 
 
 She glanced back at him. " There you are quite 
 wrong, Johann ; half the women in the world wait 
 for it till they die." 
 
 Johann, still unsatisfied, lingered by the curtain. 
 " If there was something I could do for you " 
 
 She looked at him kindly. "There are two 
 things, Johann. Ask me no questions and give me 
 plenty of work. Those two kindnesses have kept 
 many people sane." 
 
 Johann eyed her in troubled silence. Then after 
 an interval, still troubled and still silent, he with- 
 drew. 
 
 She dropped into her former seat and took her face 
 between her hands.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER VI 
 
 IT was a full week later, and again the sun was 
 streaming into Solny's room. The furniture 
 was unchanged, but the room itself had been 
 brightened with flowers : pots of roses in lull 
 bloom stood on the dressing-table and on the little 
 table by the bed, and there were lilies on the window- 
 seat. The sweet strong scent, mingling with the 
 sun from the open window, gave a strange effect of 
 fragrance in the dingy place. 
 
 Anna knelt at the head of the bed, her arm round 
 her father's neck. It was the attitude that pleased 
 him best and gave most ease to his shaken mind ; 
 and for hours of each day, since the morning of her 
 return, she had been content to stay patiently and 
 almost silently in the cramped position her atti- 
 tude unchanging, her eyes on the opposite wall. 
 
 To-day he was more still than usual. Some 
 minutes before, the doctor, called in by Anna on 
 her first day, had made his visit ; and then, for an 
 appreciable space, he had brightened, suffering the 
 superficial examination without demur ; but almost 
 at once he had fallen back into his lethargy of calm, 
 his hand resting contentedly in the girl's, his ey> 
 closed.
 
 THE CIRCLE 301 
 
 The incident was a mere mark in the passage of 
 events ; for day by day he weakened, day by day he 
 sank a little, grew a degree more childish, a degree 
 easier of management. Sometimes Anna caught her- 
 self wishing that the task of nursing was harder, 
 that more self-sacrifice, more active self-effacement 
 were asked of her ; but the silent decline went on 
 without a pause scarcely discernible to the most 
 watchful eye, but all the more unmerciful in its cer- 
 tain steps. 
 
 One day he would take his scanty portion of food 
 less well than the day before. Anna would look at 
 Johann, and Johann would answer the look before it 
 could spring to words. " The appetite is always 
 uncertain, 11 he would say, " even in the young how 
 much 'more in the old ! " And Anna would smile a 
 little, half-heartedly reassured. 
 
 Next day the patient would sleep more heavily 
 than usual, and for hours at a time, being roused 
 with difficulty to take his nourishment ; and Anna, 
 ^-he only other occupant of the silent room, would 
 uddenly feel her courage fail, suddenly be seized 
 A'ith a great dread of the gaunt figure with its 
 emaciated hands and thin eyelids through which the 
 veins showed, and rushing to the stairs would call 
 repeatedly for Johann. Sometimes Johann was in 
 the kitchen and would hear. Then, stumbling in his 
 eagerness, he would come up the narrow stairs two 
 steps at once, and the girl, suddenly confident in the 
 presence of another, would lose patience with herself
 
 302 THE CIRCLE 
 
 for her want of strength. But at other times, when 
 Johann was busy in the shop, her voice would fail to 
 reach him ; and pale at the isolation of this house 
 packed between a hundred other houses, she would 
 return to the room chilled with nervous apprehen- 
 sion, feel her father's pulse, listen to his scarcely 
 audible breathing, then walk to the window and rest 
 her forehead against the glass. 
 
 It was a small maze of life, small as the cobweb of 
 the big spider above the bed ; and she moved in its 
 narrow round with as little variation, as little knowl- 
 edge of the morrow, as did the insect itself. In that 
 fact lay at once her danger and her anchorage. One 
 point she had set before her mind, and to one point 
 she held. She would not look ahead. She had 
 blinded herself or believed that she had blinded 
 herself to the fact that for her, possessing youth 
 and health, life must go on indefinitely, whatever its 
 mental aspect. She had made her sacrifice and, as 
 she had said, she was like the miracle-worker waiting 
 for a sign. She waited for the sign in rigid patience, 
 but that she did wait and did hope inordinately was 
 shown beyond doubt by the wild beating of her 
 heart each time the shop-bell rang, the quick red 
 that sprang to her face each time that Johann 
 returned from seeing a customer. To hope against 
 hope is the reprieve of humanity ; when hope goes 
 the sentence of death is already passed. 
 
 In the still room life stagnated. Through the 
 open window the dusty air swung in haltingly. Once
 
 THE CIRCLE 303 
 
 a butterfly flitted to the sill, hovered above the lilies, 
 then slanted out again ; in a corner the cat crouched 
 on the boards, stealthily watchful of a mouse-hole ; 
 on the table by the bed a fly crawled up the medi- 
 cine bottle. Anna watched each in turn with weary 
 eyes. Her head ached, her arm was cramped ; from 
 her place by the bed she could smell the white roses. 
 By closing her eyes she could see Trescar, the green 
 cliff, the sweep of sea, the tower of Strode's house. 
 But she did not close them ; there are some pictures 
 we dare not look upon. 
 
 Presently there was a step outside ; her figure be- 
 came alert, a light came into her face. After a faint 
 pause the door creaked cautiously, and Johann came 
 softly into the room. 
 
 Solny lifted his lids, glanced at the new-comer, 
 then turned to Anna. 
 
 " Dear one ! "" he said weakly. " Dear one ! " He 
 tried to pat her hand, but before the action was 
 completed his eyes had drooped again. 
 
 Anna looked up. " Well ? " she asked. " What 
 did the doctor say?" 
 
 Johann came softly round to her side and sat on 
 the window-ledge. 
 
 " As usual nothing."" 
 
 She made an impatient sound. "He irritates 
 me," she said. " It 's always the same, the very 
 same * Be gentle with him, humour him in every- 
 thing ; make him take all the nourishment you 
 can. 1 Oh, Johann, can't we do more than be gentle
 
 304 THE CIRCLE 
 
 with him ? It seems so little, when one would do c 
 much." She spoke in a whisper, but the cramped- 
 ness, mental and physical, that hemmed her round 
 was observable in her voice. 
 
 Johann hung his head. 
 
 There was silence in the room for a minute, then 
 Anna spoke again. 
 
 " Has any one come to-day, Johann ? Any one ? " 
 She thrilled with the question, and stayed breathless 
 for the reply. 
 
 He moved abruptly and buried his face in the 
 lilies. " No one."" His voice was muffled in the 
 flowers. Then came a fresh silence. He stirred his 
 feet uneasily, looking furtively and hungrily at the 
 girl by his side. 
 
 Through the window the air fanned in and out ; 
 Solny^s breathing had grown faintly regular. Quietly 
 but involuntarily Anna drew away her arm, and 
 rising walked to the door. 
 
 Johann half rose. 
 
 At the door she spoke without looking back. 
 " Stay with him a little, Johann ; I "m going to my 
 own room." 
 
 He paused, instantly obedient. His face in the 
 last week had returned to its old drawn pallor ; the 
 first radiance of joy, faded by Strode's coming, had 
 never been given renewed life ; in its place a des- 
 perate desire to hold Anna at all costs, and at all 
 costs to make her satisfied to stay, possessed him to 
 inordinate degrees. He rose in the morning and lay
 
 THE CIRCLE 305 
 
 down at night a prey to the one idea. Every hour 
 of the long monotonous day was an effort to that 
 end, or a sickening fear that the effort had been 
 futile. 
 
 Anna, unconscious of all this, unconscious of every- 
 thing except her own dull despair and her own 
 tired thoughts, moved towards the door-handle. 
 Johann, with a forward start, reached it first and 
 turned it for her. As she passed him he leant near, 
 looking into her face. 
 
 " Anna? " 
 
 She paused questioningly. 
 
 " I have been silent for a week. May I ask some- 
 thing now ? " The entreaty, mingling with fear, 
 that showed in his eyes thrust her suddenly back 
 eight years. 
 
 " What is it, Johann ? " she said gently. 
 
 His eyes scorched her face, then fell. "You 
 are contented here ? You have no wish to go 
 back ? " 
 
 His tone was intense ; and intensity, when it does 
 not freeze, is infectious. It touched Anna with 
 momentary fire ; for a fraction of time the impulse 
 to speak overwhelmed her, the desire to unburden 
 all her mind without counting the consequence be- 
 came a power almost outside control. Then sud- 
 denly Solny stirred. 
 
 " Zenia ! " he called, with the plaintive wail of a 
 child. " Zenia ! " 
 
 The effect on the girl was curious. Her lips drew 
 20
 
 306 THE CIRCLE 
 
 together in chilled silence ; the hand she had half 
 raised dropped back to her side. 
 
 " No, Johann, I regret nothing please believe 
 that." Turning, she walked back to the bed and 
 knelt down again.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER VII 
 
 MRS. MAXTEAD was in her study ; her 
 desk was piled with unanswered letters 
 and her ash-tray with half-burnt cigar- 
 ettes ; there was an air of carelessness 
 in the assortment of her papers, usually so methodi- 
 cal and complete. She sat in deep dejection, her 
 elbows on the desk, her face between her hands. 
 
 After five minutes there was a knock on the outer 
 door. She started to her feet and walked across the 
 room ; as she reached the door it opened and Strode 
 came in. 
 
 She held out her hand in undisguised relief. " How 
 I Ve been longing for you, Maurice ! Is there any 
 news ? " 
 
 Strode's face looked tired. 
 
 " None," he said. 
 
 "None?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 She returned to her seat and motioned him to 
 another. For a while there was silence in the room. 
 
 " You Ve been there to Felt Street ? " 
 
 " At eleven. 11 
 
 " Nothing to be learnt ?" 
 
 Nothing."
 
 308 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " And that makes the tenth time ? " 
 
 " Ninth or tenth. One rather loses count."" For 
 the first time the reliant confidence of Strode's voice 
 lacked its ring. When he had finished he sat silent, 
 gazing in front of him. 
 
 Several minutes passed. Mrs. Maxtead changed 
 her position once or twice, lighted a cigarette and 
 laid it aside unsmoked ; at last with a hasty impulse 
 of resolution she rose and crossed to his side, motion- 
 ing him not to rise. 
 
 "This man's answer has always been the same, 
 Maurice ? Always unsatisfactory ? Always wrung 
 from him, as it were, against his will?" 
 
 Strode nodded. "He's a queer chap,"" he said. 
 u It 's his way of telling one bad news, nothing be- 
 yond that." 
 
 For a space his companion said nothing ; then, 
 with quick restlessness, she laid her hand on his arm. 
 
 " Maurice, it 's my firm impression that the man is 
 lying that she is there." 
 
 Strode started, then relapsed into quiet. "Ab- 
 surd!" he said. 
 
 Her eyes gleamed. " You are a man," she said, 
 " and of course you say ' absurd ' to any opinion a 
 woman may advance it 's hereditary, and I forgive 
 you. But I hold to the impression. The creature 
 cares for her, always has cared for her. What is 
 more natural than that, having got her back, he 
 should stick to her ? Stick to her like grim death, 
 as you would say, and consider you his worst enemy?""
 
 THE CIRCLE 309 
 
 Strode removed her detaining hand gently, and rose. 
 " Absurd ! " he said again. " The man has too few 
 friends to mistake them for anything else. Beside, 
 I put him on his oath the first time I went there. I 
 suppose I may smoke ? "" 
 
 She nodded impatiently, and he lit a cigarette. 
 For a moment it seemed that a wall of reserve was 
 to rise between the two who for days had worked 
 as incessant allies. Continual disappointment has a 
 dangerously blighting consequence. 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead walked to her desk and took up her 
 old position, but she watched Strode as he paced the 
 room, smoking hard ; she saw him throw away one 
 used-out cigarette and light another; then, with 
 the silent swiftness that characterised her in critical 
 times, she rose once more and went straight up to 
 him. Her eyes were bright, her face had lost its 
 satirical hardness. 
 
 " Maurice," she said with direct quiet, " we have 
 been working together for a time that seems like 
 years. In war, when men fight together day after day 
 they must see each other in a new light ; a lot must 
 show up, weakness and strength. In the last week I 
 have seen you through and through. I have said noth- 
 ing, I have taken it all in the day's work, but far 
 down inside my mind I have been shamed into admi- 
 ration by your sheer pluck I, who never admire." 
 
 Strode touched her hand and laughed. 
 
 " No, 11 she said. " No, Maurice, that %> just what 
 I won't have. You think that I don't see, but I do ;
 
 310 THE CIRCLE 
 
 you think that I have a little courage of my own, 
 but I have n't, not a scrap. If I have n't let the 
 fear that's making me frantic show straight out, it 
 is because I am held back by you. When I lie awake 
 at night and think and think 3f what may have hap- 
 pened of the horrible thing one dares not frame 
 what is it that keeps me from getting up and going 
 right out of the house ? Nothing but the fact that 
 you, who are bearing so much more, are bearing it 
 so well. My dear boy, I understand quite well 
 quite well '" She looked at him steadily. "Don't 
 shut me out now, because things are getting too hard." 
 
 Strode turned to her for an instant, then walked 
 to the window. He stood in silence for a while, then 
 suddenly he wheeled about. 
 
 " You are right ! " he said sharply. " You are 
 quite right! I do feel driven driven against a 
 dead wall. I sometimes find myself asking how long 
 it can go on how long 7 can go on " 
 
 " Don't ! " she said hastily. " These things are 
 best not put into words. When you face a dead 
 wall, turn and try a fresh road." 
 
 He laughed again harshly. " Show me the road 
 I have n't tried?" 
 
 She moved towards him once more, in her manner 
 there was an underlying excitement. 
 
 " Yes, Maurice, I will." 
 
 He glanced at her sharply, but she went on with- 
 out heeding his regard. 
 
 " I have my theory," she said, " about this curio
 
 THE CIRCLE 311 
 
 shop and this deformed friend of yours, and I want 
 to put my theory to the test. You have interviewed 
 him nine times, and each time, as you admit, you 
 have gained nothing. Let me interview him once ? ""* 
 She paused, fingering her rings. 
 
 Strode was silent. 
 
 " Maurice, let me go there once ? All along you 
 have said c Leave everything to me,' and I have left 
 everything to you. Day after day I 've sat at home, 
 now I feel I've sat at home long enough."" She 
 looked up with eager eyes. " You are as straight as 
 a die yourself ; we are all apt to take people's length 
 by our own special measure." There was query and 
 suggestion in her pause. 
 
 Strode moved impatiently. " Look here," he said, 
 " it comes to this I take this beggar to be a liar or 
 I take him to be the reverse ; till he is proved to bt 
 a liar, I prefer to think him square in fact I have 
 no choice but to think him square." 
 
 " My dear Maurice, there is n't room for truth and 
 jealousy in the same house, you may take my word 
 for that." 
 
 " Jealousy ? " He stared, then laughed impa- 
 tiently. " Absurd ! " he said once more. " I put 
 him on his oath, you can't get away from that. An 
 oath 's an oath any day to a man like that." 
 
 " Not when a woman is in the scales, and the oath 
 can turn it." 
 
 Strode tunied back to the window. "Absurd! 
 The man 's honest, I 'm certain of it." He spoke 
 decisively, over-decisively it almost seemed.
 
 312 THE CIRCLE 
 
 His companion saw the point. 
 
 " Let me have one interview ? One interview of 
 half an hour ? " 
 
 " Where 's the good ? " 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " Is n't that for me 
 to arrange ? " 
 
 Strode turned to her abruptly. " Where 's the 
 good ? " he said again. " You '11 ask what I have 
 asked, you '11 get the same answers, then you '11 
 come away." 
 
 " Pardon, Maurice, then I '11 begin." 
 
 He looked down. " You can't legally search the 
 house," he said. 
 
 She raised her eyes to his face. " I was n't think- 
 ing of searching the house. I know a fact concern- 
 ing your friend. I have known it for years. It 
 struck me yesterday that a fact is never too stale 
 to be used." 
 
 Strode stared at her. " That affair of the jewels ? " 
 he said. " You don't mean that old affair you told 
 me of? " 
 
 " That is what I mean. As a lever, jewels are as 
 good a weapon as any other." 
 
 He still looked at her. " You could n't," he said. 
 " You could n't, after all this time." 
 
 " I could do anything, Maurice, and something 
 must be done. Can you guarantee to find her ? " 
 The question was sharp. 
 
 Strode looked down again. "No," he said very 
 slowly. " No, I suppose I can't."
 
 THE CIRCLE 313 
 
 His companion's eyes flashed. " Then abdicate," 
 she said. " Be generous and abdicate." 
 
 He stood very still. "Give me one other day?" 
 he said at last. " It 's a big thing to tell a man he 's 
 perjured himself. Give me one other day?" 
 
 She glanced at him swiftly. " You Ve thought of 
 another way," she said. " I see it in your eyes." 
 
 " Nothing. Just a chance the shred of a chance " 
 he still looked on the ground ; still seemed harassed 
 and perturbed. " He knows that I love Anna ; but 
 I Ve never said straight out that Anna cares for me. 
 I don't like it, but it 's a chance admitting that 
 what you think could possibly be true it's just a 
 chance." He raised his head. 
 
 " And if your chance fails ? " 
 
 " Then I resign. You can do what you like." 
 
 She smiled with quick intelligence. "You have 
 given me new life, Maurice. I feel at last that I Ve 
 a right to exist." 
 
 He held out his hand. " I 'm glad somebody feels 
 like that. I 'll'say good-bye now." 
 
 She took the hand impulsively. " Have some lunch 
 before you go ? You 're wearing yourself out." 
 
 He smiled dryly. "Thanks; somehow I don't 
 feel like lunch have n't these six days." 
 
 Mrs. Maxtead watched him walk to the door. 
 "Till to-morrow, Maurice!" she said. 
 
 " Yes. Till to-morrow ! " 
 
 Five seconds later she heard the hall door shut.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER nil 
 
 ON the same day there was a stir in the 
 rooms above the curio shop the vague 
 restless stir that hangs about grave ill- 
 ness like a premature pall. From the 
 moment of Annans coming from his first excited 
 recognition of her as his wife Solny had failed 
 perceptibly. His life had for years been the life of 
 a spent taper, needing no more than a gust of rough 
 wind to extinguish its light ; and her coming had, 
 in all unconsciousness, proved to be that wind. 
 When the vigour of existence is at its ebb, a shock 
 of joy is often as relentlessly fatal as a shock of 
 sorrow ; and on the morning when Strode and Mrs. 
 Maxtead confronted their difficulties in Palace Court, 
 the steady decline that for days had been gaining 
 ground made its first uncovered attack. 
 
 Before twelve o'clock Solny fainted twice. The 
 doctor, hurriedly sent for, examined him with unusual 
 minuteness, gave his directions laconically, and de- 
 parted, promising to look in again in two hours' time. 
 He was back in Felt Street in an hour and a half. 
 
 The patient was sleeping, but his breathing was 
 alarmingly weak. For the first time the doctor 
 became personal ; he looked at Anna in a new way.
 
 THE CIRCLE 315 
 
 " You must take care of yourself/' 1 he said. " We 
 can't have you breaking down." 
 
 She glanced up from her place by her father's 
 pillow. " I shaVt break down," she said. 
 
 He continued to look at her with a shrewdness 
 that brought Penrhyn to her mind. 
 
 " I wish you 'd have a nurse " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " It would be wiser, you know " He came 
 round to her side. "I don't want to frighten 
 you " 
 
 She glanced at him sharply. 
 
 " But it 's my duty to say to prepare you " 
 He stopped. He was young ; he wanted intensely 
 to be kind ; but a practice in the southeast does 
 not encourage tact. 
 
 Anna's eyes dilated. " Oh no," she said, " it 
 can't be, it couldn't be so soon." 
 
 He patted her shoulder awkwardly. " Come," he 
 said, " be plucky ! He 's old life is n't worth much 
 to us when we come to that " He indicated the bed. 
 
 Solny's figure showed up through the bed-clothes 
 like an effigy on a tomb ; his face, so prematurely 
 worn, was the colour of yellow wax, except where 
 dark hollows showed under the eyes. 
 
 Anna looked ; then looked away. " I understand 
 what you isean," she said. 
 
 The doctor was disconcerted ; he was unused to 
 patients who took such news in a frozen way. He 
 touched her shoulder again.
 
 316 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " You have done everything for him that must 
 be a consolation." 
 
 She said nothing. 
 
 He picked up his hat and moved to the door. 
 *' 1 11 look in again once perhaps twice before 
 night. There's nothing to be done beyond what 
 IVe said. 11 
 
 The girl nodded. 
 
 " And take care of yourself. Remember it 's 
 kinder to him he may want you later on."" 
 
 " 1 11 remember." 
 
 " Do. Good-day ! " 
 
 " Good-day ! " 
 
 He went out, closed the door, and passed down- 
 stairs. 
 
 Anna stayed immovable, her hand on her father's, 
 her eyes fixed rigidly on the opposite wall. 
 
 In the shop the doctor paused by the desk. 
 
 " He 's failing fast," he said. 
 
 Johann looked up in alarm. 
 
 " And I want you to look to the girl. It 's nothing 
 to do with me, but I can't quite place that girl ; and 
 I think she wants seeing to. Shell be my next 
 patient if we don't look out. We are all animals. 
 you know, and we all need our environment. It 's 
 very plain that she 's out of hers." 
 
 Johann paled, partly understanding. *' What am 
 I to do ? " he said. 
 
 The doctor looked at him. " Rouse her in some
 
 THE CIRCLE 317 
 
 way," he said ; " make her cry, for choice. A 
 woman's generally safe if you can make her cry. 
 I don't like her eyes they Ye too dry and too ex- 
 pectant for her age. How old is she ? Twenty-two ? " 
 
 " Twenty-four." 
 
 " I see ! Well, 1 11 drop in again. Take the old 
 man quietly ; he 11 give no trouble. Good-day ! " 
 
 "Good-day, sir! " 
 
 Johann in his turn was left alone.
 
 PART THE EE CHA P TER IX 
 
 WITH sickening slowness the day wore 
 on ; three times between noon and 
 four Johann crept upstairs, but each 
 time Anna's rigid face kept him dumb 
 or sent him away diespairing. Questioned on any 
 point, she answered in monosyllables ; haltingly 
 sympathised with, she seemed not to hear. At the 
 given times she zealously administered the medicines 
 and nourishment to her father ; in the intervals she 
 knelt quite motionless by the bed. 
 
 At four the doctor came again. He stayed in the 
 sick man's room for nearly half an hour ; but what 
 he was doing there whether attending upon Solny 
 or trying to break through Anna's chilled quiet, 
 Johann never knew, having an affair of his own on 
 hand. 
 
 As the doctor, having finished his visit, passed 
 through the parlour into the shop, he saw a slight 
 tall man leave by the street door ; the man was well 
 dressed and walked quickly, almost agitatedly, it 
 seemed. It struck him as an odd episode ; but odd 
 episodes become casual in a doctor's life. He turned 
 to Johann, huddled behind the counter. 
 
 " Well," he said, " you have n't done much. She 's 
 still ice.*
 
 THE CIRCLE 319 
 
 Johann did n't speak ; he seemed curiously up- 
 set. His face had a scared look, his lips were 
 unsteady. 
 
 "Well?" said the other. "Didn't you do 
 anything ? " 
 
 " I tried I tried, but she would n't speak 
 to me." 
 
 The doctor pursed his lips. " Tush, man ! I told 
 you to speak to her." Then he looked at his watch. 
 " I must be getting on." 
 
 Johann moved uneasily ; some secret agitation was 
 working in his face. 
 
 His companion watched him, then moved towards 
 the door. "I'll turn in again," he said. "And 
 remember what I said It 's you who must speak to 
 her:" 
 
 Johann raised his head. " Yes," he said sharply, 
 " it is I must speak to her." He repeated the words 
 with a strange intonation, as if meaning them, not 
 for his questioner, but for himself. 
 
 The doctor pondered on the point as he walked 
 briskly down the street. 
 
 Johann sat behind the counter until six o'clock. 
 At six he shut the shop. Ten minutes later Anna 
 heard a knock on Solny's door. 
 
 She looked up with sharp relief as the sound fell. 
 She was corking a medicine bottle, and her fingers, 
 usually so steady, slipped and stumbled over the task. 
 It was early evening, but the room, full of light in
 
 320 THE CIRCLE 
 
 the morning, was the first in the house to catch the 
 chill of approaching dusk. Already there were 
 shadows in the corners and a bluish tinge in the 
 whiteness of the bed-clothes. She answered the knock 
 with a haste that betrayed strung nerves. 
 
 Johann entered softly, moved across the room 
 with almost stealthy quiet, and paused by the 
 window-seat. 
 
 Anna held up her finger. " He is asleep again ! " 
 She finished corking the bottle, then crossed to 
 Johann's side. 
 
 "Johann,"" she said, "I'm so glad you've come. 
 I thought I had offended you, and I I began to 
 have such silly ideas, and imagine that you would n't 
 come back at all. Was n't it absurd ? " She laughed, 
 a faint unsteady laugh, then caught herself up. 
 " How horrible ! " she said. " I never meant to laugh 
 the sound slipped out by itself; I must be all 
 nerves. Johann, do I seem all nerves ? " 
 
 Johann did not look at her. "What does that 
 mean ? " he said. " What do you mean when you 
 say * nerves ** ? "" 
 
 " Oh." She made a gesture with her hands. 
 " Oh, it means that you are all all in little bits ; 
 it means that you keep fearfully still, because you 
 are afraid to let yourself go; it means oh, Johann, 
 it means that you Ve had enough that you can't 
 possibly bear any more that you are utterly, 
 utterly broken down She sank on the window- 
 seat and hid her face a wave of silent tearless 
 sobbing shaking her from head to foot.
 
 THE CIRCLE 321 
 
 It was a terrible form of grief to witness per- 
 fectly soundless, perfectly concentrated ; it was more 
 harassing than any flood of tears. Johann was 
 beside himself; the tide of his love swelled up 
 futilely. He touched her hands, her arm, her hair. 
 He even knelt beside her and strove to raise her face. 
 
 " Anna ! " he whispered beseechingly. " Anna ! " 
 His adoration of her shook incoherently in his voice. 
 
 Her shoulders moved convulsively ; the silence of 
 the room continued, broken only by the agitated 
 indrawing of her breath. Solny slept on. Johann 
 looked from one figure to the other, his incapacity 
 goading him. At last he caught her wrists. 
 
 " Anna, tell me what I am to do ? " 
 
 The pain and despair in his voice reached her ; 
 she looked up with haggard eyes. 
 
 " No one can do anything. No one." 
 
 It was then, suddenly, that strength came to 
 Johann, 
 
 " Anna," he said, with sharp emphasis, " have you 
 ever been glad that you came home ? Have you 
 ever ever once been glad that you came back ? 
 I want to know."" 
 
 Anna bent her face, but he held her wrists ; his 
 hungry eyes compelled an answer. For a second she 
 met his glance unwillingly, then something in its 
 intensity fired her. The strenuous need for truth 
 flamed up again, the wild wish to have done with 
 patience and pretence caught her as it had done 
 before.
 
 822 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " No, Johann," she said, " I have never once been 
 glad. I have felt a prisoner I have hated it from 
 the first " She barely breathed the words, but 
 each syllable reached him. Again she bent her face, 
 but this time her wrists were free. 
 
 The change struck her ; she looked up. 
 
 " Johann ! " she said nervously. " Johann ! " 
 
 Johann had turned to the fireplace. He looked 
 shrunken and wofully small. 
 
 She rose uncertainly. " Johann, 11 she said again. 
 There was a tinge of fear in her voice. 
 
 He did not turn. 
 
 " Johann, I have hurt you. 71 
 
 "No. I think I knew all along. I wouldn't 
 believe that was all." 
 
 Solny stirred a little at this point. Anna moved 
 to the bed, bending over it in quick solicitude. 
 
 Johann made no effort to move. Deep in his 
 mind he felt numbed too numbed ever to move 
 again. After a long dreary silence he spoke. 
 
 tt Why did you come back at all ? " he asked. 
 
 Anna raised her head ; she was still standing by 
 the bed. She tried to reply, but no rational sen- 
 tence formed itself. She felt crushed by the enor- 
 mity of her act. 
 
 " What made you think of coming back ? I want 
 to know." 
 
 She moved a little towards the window, then 
 stopped. She felt like the prisoner arraigned and 
 already condemned. With a desperate wish to anti-
 
 THE CIRCLE 323 
 
 cipate her judgment, she went suddenly forward to 
 where Johann stood. 
 
 " 1 11 tell you everything, Johann from the very 
 first to the last. Let me tell you everything. I 
 have craved to tell it all along, only I wanted to be 
 brave " 
 
 His shoulders were hunched ; he leant heavily on 
 the mantel-board. 
 
 " Johann, can you hear what I say ? " 
 
 " Yes, I can hear/ 1 His tone was dull and strange. 
 
 " I told you the other night why I went away long 
 ago how I was lured away through my fear for 
 you how I was not to blame in that ; I told you 
 how Mrs. Maxtead kept her word and appeased Gol- 
 stock though the jewels were never found; I told 
 you how for three years I remembered you, and for 
 the other three forgot. You know all that ; it is 
 the other part the later part that you do not 
 know " She paused and pushed back her hair. 
 
 Johann's shoulders stirred very slightly, otherwise 
 he was quiet. 
 
 " Two months ago, Johann, I met a man an 
 American named Maurice Strode " She watched 
 him and saw him lay his arm more heavily on the 
 cheap chimney-board. " We became friends. I went 
 to Cornwall with Mrs. Maxtead and he was there. 
 Before I left Cornwall we were engaged to be 
 married. 11 
 
 Johannes arm dropped and he moved round ; his 
 face had the bluish tinge that it had worn on the
 
 324 THE CIRCLE 
 
 night of his rescue ; the scar on his temple showed 
 darker and deeper than usual. 
 
 " Did you love him ? " he asked. 
 
 Anna put up her hand. " Wait ! "" she said. 
 "Wait! It's all got to be told/' She stepped 
 to the bed, arranging the quilt with unsteady 
 hands, then walked back again. 
 
 " Until then, Johann up to the time I left 
 Cornwall he did n't know my name, did n't know 
 who I was it was a whim of mine to make him 
 care for me, just for myself. And on the night 
 before I left he told me a story the story of a 
 girl who had left her home and forgotten her peo- 
 ple, whose father had gone mad at the loss of her, 
 and whose oldest friend was slaving day after day in 
 the place that ought to have been hers 
 
 Johann's head was lifted, his dull eyes devoured 
 her face, he had the look of an animal that stands 
 with ears alert. 
 
 " He told me the story word for word, bitterly 
 and harshly. He, who is so loyal himself, could find 
 no excuse, could find no loophole not one not 
 even a tiny one. He said that such a woman is 
 branded branded, Johann. Say that slowly over 
 to yourself. " 
 
 Johann moistened his lips. " Did you love him ? " 
 he asked again. 
 
 " Love him ? I cared for him with every scrap of 
 feeling. Every word he said cut deep down, like a 
 red-hot knife. I wonder I lived through that night."
 
 THE CIRCLE 325 
 
 At her first words Johann stepped back ; as she 
 went on he came forward again, looking stupidly on 
 the floor. 
 
 "You never told him ? He never knew ?" 
 
 " Not till afterwards. If you had heard him speak 
 that night, if you had seen his face, you would n't 
 ask. I could n't have told him, Johann ; no woman 
 could have told him, then." She stopped and turned 
 to the window. In her absorption she had almost 
 forgotten that she had a listener ; in the new free- 
 dom of speech she had overlooked the pain that her 
 words might have for him. Presently she turned 
 back into the room and spoke afresh, her voice 
 wavering in her effort to keep it low. 
 
 " Do you wonder that I 'm the most wretched girl 
 on earth ? " she asked. " I knew that he would hate 
 me and despise me once he understood ; but I am a 
 woman and I hoped. Oh, Johann, I have hoped and 
 prayed, and prayed and hoped that he might grow 
 to understand and to forgive ; you don't know what 
 I have suffered in these last days. I have tried to 
 live for my father, and now he is going ; I shall be 
 alone, fearfully, utterly alone/ 1 She sank down again 
 on the window-seat. 
 
 Johann lowered his head and after a minute raised 
 it again. There was a peculiar look in his face ; the 
 immature perplexity that had always possessed it 
 was gone, giving place to a great comprehension ; 
 his eyes looked infinitely pained, but his weak mouth 
 had ceased to tremble.
 
 326 THE CIRCLE 
 
 " You have me, Anna," he said. 
 
 Anna's face was covered; she laughed a little, 
 wildly. " Poor Johann ! " she said below her breath 
 and without looking up. 
 
 Johann winced. 
 
 " Would you be afraid if I went out for a little ? 
 I have been indoors these five days. 11 
 
 She glanced up miserably. 
 
 " Of course not ; only don't be longer than you 
 need." She looked towards the bed, then let her 
 head droop again. 
 
 He followed the direction of her eyes. 
 
 " No," he said thoughtfully ; " not longer than I 
 need." 
 
 After that there was silence in the room, a silence 
 so long that at last Anna looked up. She looked up 
 hastily, then she rose hastily. The room was bare. 
 Johann had gone.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was after eight ; Strode was pacing to and fro 
 between the door and the windows of the sit- 
 ting-room. The windows were open, but the 
 curtains were drawn ; the small round table 
 was set for dinner ; the high lamp by the desk had a 
 soft-coloured shade. Everything on the surface sug- 
 gested comfort and ease ; the only uncongenial note 
 in the harmony of the whole being the occupant 
 himself. He was neatly and carefully dressed, but 
 long and unrelieved suspense tells in outward signs 
 on even the strongest man. To the most casual 
 observer Strode was changed. 
 
 As he walked his hands were clasped loosely behind 
 his back ; his head, usually so sharply alert, was 
 bent ; a great dejection, reaching almost to despair, 
 was apparent in his face. Nearly four hours ago he 
 had played his last card and had lost ; now he faced 
 Fate bankrupt. 
 
 He paced the floor hurriedly, with the speed of a 
 man who tries to outrun himself. Once the evening 
 paper was swept from the desk by his hasty move- 
 ments, and he pushed it aside with his foot ; then, 
 pausing on the impulse, he picked it up, and, smooth- 
 ing it, carried it to the lamp. There, with a set
 
 328 THE CIRCLE 
 
 face, he scanned the latest announcements the ac- 
 cidents ; strange discoveries ; deaths, suicidal and 
 otherwise. The survey was rapid ; as he finished, the 
 harassed line between his eyebrows smoothed itself 
 momentarily, and with a short exclamation of relief 
 he dropped the paper again and recommenced his 
 pacing of the room. 
 
 Twice he walked backwards and forwards ; then he 
 stopped by the desk, sat down abruptly, and drew 
 the inkstand forward. Then again he paused ; he 
 was in the mood to be distracted by the slightest 
 sound, and downstairs he had heard the door-bell 
 ring. He listened for a second, then, shrugging his 
 shoulders, took up a pen. But he could not write. 
 He began the heading of a letter, then paused once 
 more ; he was certain he had heard a step on the 
 stairs. He laughed angrily. People had passed up 
 and down those stairs before he was born ; there was 
 no reason to suppose the stairs would be deserted 
 even after he was dead. He laughed again. Then 
 suddenly he threw the pen aside and rose ; the steps 
 had stopped outside his door. 
 
 He stood up very straight and stiff. Someone 
 knocked on the door; to his overstrained ears it 
 sounded a timid knock. 
 
 " Come in ! " he called. 
 
 It was several seconds before the door opened ; 
 then it only opened partly, allowing a face to be 
 seen in the aperture. The face was pinched and 
 pale, with eyes that looked unnaturally large.
 
 329 
 
 Strode wanted to come forward, wanted hard to 
 say something, but he stood silent and still. He 
 was uncertain of what he expected ; he was un- 
 certain whether the excitement that galvanised 
 him through and through was the excitement of 
 hope or of fear ; he only knew that it was excite- 
 ment, as opposed to the ghastly inaction of the past 
 week. He turned abruptly to the fireplace, and 
 took a pipe from the pipe-rack that hung above it. 
 
 Johann moved forward cautiously. Once more he 
 was the creature Strode had known reticent, sub- 
 dued, full of hidden depths. 
 
 Strode stretched his hand to the tobacco-jar and 
 began to fill his pipe. He scarcely saw what he was 
 doing, he cared a good deal less ; but such a man, in 
 such a moment, must be occupied. 
 
 The other moved into the room and stood by the 
 table ; the yellow glow from the lamp threw a trying 
 light, accentuating all that was meagre and unpre- 
 possessing in his face. 
 
 Strode struck a match and held it suspended in 
 the air. " Well ? " be said quietly. Well ? * 
 
 Johann steadied himself, passing his tongue over 
 his lips. 
 
 " I lied," he said plainly ; " she was there all along." 
 
 Strode said nothing. It is as hard to some 
 natures it is harder to take good news strongly 
 than to take bad ; possibly he reached the highest 
 point in his control when he stood quiet and speech- 
 less, letting Johann's words sink into his mind. The
 
 THE CIRCLE 
 
 colour round his mouth paled a little ; once or twice 
 his fingers twitched ; beyond that he made no sign. 
 The match burnt down, scorching his hand; he 
 dropped it into the grate, then, with his involuntary 
 gesture, he slowly smoothed his hair. 
 
 Well ? " he said again. " Well ? " 
 
 Johann shook slightly. 
 
 " Well, what have you to say ? " He struck another 
 match, lighted his pipe, and began to smoke fiercely. 
 
 The other picked up a book and toyed with it. 
 " When you came to the shop to-day you said that 
 she loved you ; I did n't believe it then I would n't 
 believe it. She had come back to us of her own 
 will. How could I believe it ? " His tone was 
 thin and sharp. 
 
 Strode turned abruptly ; he leant against the 
 mantelpiece and smoked harder than before. 
 
 ** But after you went I got afraid. I waited a long 
 time thinking ; then I went upstairs *' Johann 
 broke off and dropped the book. 
 
 Strode's head was bent ; he was enveloped in a 
 cloud of smoke. 
 
 " I went upstairs and I asked her quite plainly if 
 she was content " He spoke with an effort. " She 
 cried she cried until she could no longer pretend ; 
 and then suddenly I found that all along I had known 
 that all along I had known, only I would not let 
 myself know. I knew that she was miserable with 
 us ; that she no more belonged to us than the stars 
 in the sky belong, though we can see their light " 
 He broke off again.
 
 THE CIRCLE 331 
 
 Strode put down his pipe. " Did you tell her 
 about me ? " 
 
 " No." Johann looked round. " She had told me 
 that she loves you " 
 
 Strode said nothing ; he, too, was thinking hard. 
 
 The other mistook his silence. " It is for her that 
 I come here not for you. 11 
 
 Still Strode was silent. 
 
 Johann's pain flickered up in a tinge of defiance. 
 " I lied to you," he said, " and I would lie again 
 if it could do any good. I wanted her ; I had waited 
 for her and wanted her for eight years I, who have 
 nothing. And you you, who have everything, you 
 came to rob her back from me on the first day the 
 very first day. It is no wonder that I lied." He 
 moved to the desk : he was white and excited ; for 
 almost the first time in his life he was speaking out 
 his heart, and the expression exalted him in an ecstasy 
 of pain. " Oh yes," he said, " I would lie again ; I 
 would lie to all the world if it could keep her but 
 it can't it can't. She belongs to you she has 
 always belonged to you. Once she pitied me, now 
 she will despise me ; it is very plain that there is no 
 place in the world for one like me " His face 
 contracted ; he glanced hopelessly at Strode with his 
 silence, his averted face, his suggestion of inevitable- 
 ness; then his false strength gave way. 
 
 " She saved me," he said, " and I repaid her with 
 pain ; you were kind to me, and I lied to you ; now, 
 even God forgets me " He turned to the wall.
 
 THE CIRCLE 
 
 As he finished, Strode moved slowly round ; his 
 face had the look of one who wholly understands ; 
 his eyes were steady and clear. Without a word he 
 held out his hand. 
 
 At his movement Johann looked back into the 
 room ; as he turned, deprecation and alarm gave 
 place slowly to blank surprise. He glanced at the 
 outstretched hand, then upwards, in a bewildered 
 way, to Strode's face. 
 
 " But I lied to you " 
 
 Strode said nothing ; his hand did not move. 
 
 Dazedly and automatically Johann came forward ; 
 at last he extended his own. 
 
 Their hands met ; then Strode released his and 
 walked to the door. 
 
 " You know where I 'm going," he said. " Wait 
 here till I come back. 11 
 
 Johann returned no answer ; he had dropped into 
 a chair by the desk. 
 
 On the threshold Strode stopped and looked back ; 
 quite quietly he re-crossed the room and put his hand 
 on the other's shoulder. 
 
 " I 'd have done the same myself,' 1 he said. " I 'm 
 about sure I'd have done the same myself. Just 
 remember that."" 
 
 Johann's head was buried in his arm ; he raised it 
 for an instant, and then let it droop again. In the 
 instant Strode saw that bis face was marked with 
 tears.
 
 PART THREE CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN Anna's room the close cloak of dusk had 
 shaken itself out ; on the floor the strip of 
 Eastern carpet coloured as ever, seemingly 
 unchangeable loomed a sombre suggestion 
 of orange and blue ; on the wall John Desinski's por- 
 trait of a red-haired child, softened and mellowed 
 bv time, still gazed wonderingly at an unfathomed 
 world ; by the narrow bed, her knees pressing the 
 old prayer-marks, her elbows buried in the patched 
 quilt, knelt Anna herself very quiet, very inert. 
 She knelt with bent head and listening ears, her 
 heart beating in little starts and jerks, her mind 
 under steady control, lest in the silence and solitude 
 of the house it might crash into wild confusion. 
 
 For many minutes she remained still, her hands 
 pressed tightly over her eyes, her lips from time to 
 time moving in soundless prayers. Then sharply 
 and unexpectedly the Dutch clock downstairs struck 
 nine. 
 
 She rose nervously, glancing behind her at the 
 shut door ; then she walked to the wash-stand, 
 poured some water into the basin, and bathed her 
 face. The cold of the water refreshed her; she 
 used the towel slowly, then laying it aside moved to
 
 334 THE CIRCLE 
 
 the small unsteady dressing-table and took up a 
 comb. There was practically no light in the room, 
 but mechanically she passed it through the coil of 
 hair above her forehead moving as if in a dream. 
 Still with the same dazed action she bent to replace 
 it, but before it could touch the table it dropped 
 from her hand with a clatter, and she caught the 
 table ledge nervously, jarring its contents. Down- 
 stairs not at the shop entrance, but at the small 
 door leading from the yard into the Passage some- 
 one was knocking with hurried impatient taps. 
 
 Anna paled, then the relief and possibility of a 
 human presence any human presence seized her ; 
 and groping her way in confused haste to the door, 
 she opened it and stepped on to the corridor. 
 
 On the corridor she paused ; before her lay the 
 stairs, dim and steep ; to her right showed the shut 
 door of her father's room, a black patch in the heavy 
 gloom. She shivered. A louder, more impatient 
 knock sounded through the house. She gathered 
 her strength together, as a frightened child might 
 have done, and without a look to either hand ran 
 down the stall's as if pursued. 
 
 The ground floor reached, she hurried through 
 the kitchen, opening the bars of the yard door with 
 unsteady hands ; then from the kitchen she passed 
 into the yard itself, where the moss of mould clung 
 to the walls and the grass blades forced themselves 
 between the cobbles. There, there was light ; over- 
 head the sky, pale and summer-like, was scattered
 
 THE CIRCLE 335 
 
 with countless stars; from above the wall of the 
 Passage a gas-lamp threw a sickly glow. 
 
 Another knock fell on the door ; she drew a quick 
 grateful breath. The thought that a fellow creature 
 was within three feet held wonderful attraction. 
 She crossed the yard hastily and paused by the door 
 in the wall. 
 
 '* Who 's there ? " she asked. " Who are you ? " 
 
 For an interval there was no reply. She leant 
 close to the chink ; she heard someone stir abruptly ; 
 she could have sworn that she heard someone take 
 and let go a breath. 
 
 " Who is it ? " she asked again nervously. 
 'Johann? Dr. Kaine ? " 
 
 There was a fresh second of uncertain waiting ; then 
 a voice the one voice com prising every thing, prom- 
 ising everything broke on her, eager and alert. 
 
 " I, dearest Maurice. Let me in." 
 
 Her fingers grasped the bolt, then hung nerveless 
 and incapable. She leant against the woodwork 
 faintly, her lips parted, her senses swaying. 
 
 Strode tapped again urgently. " Let me in,"" he 
 whispered. " Anna, dearest, let me in." 
 
 At the caressing intonation she sprang up, her 
 fingers shook palpably, but the bolt yielded. A 
 second after Strode was in the yard. 
 
 He came forward with a rush ; then he halted, 
 struck by her fragility, her pallor, her ethereal look. 
 The light in the yard, misty white with starlight, 
 yellow from the gas, had a halo-like effect. With
 
 336 THE CIRCLE 
 
 something of fear, something of hesitation, he held 
 out his hands. 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him, then she 
 ran forward and caught the hands in her own. 
 
 " You care, Maurice ? You care ? "" 
 
 " Dear, I worship you. 1 " 
 
 That was all. Question and answer, it compassed 
 and covered all. When hearts are over-full, they 
 seldom run to speech. When sorrow has broken in 
 on love, love, left alone again, is hesitant and shy, 
 more prone to look and kiss and hold than to mend 
 his wounds with words. There was all the length of 
 life in which to explain ; for the moment they were 
 together, and no explanation, no satisfaction, could 
 balance that. 
 
 Anna rested against his shoulder with closed eyes. 
 Now, for the first time, she knew how bitterly rest 
 was needed. But the thought of rest brought the 
 thought of fatigue fatigue the thought of duty 
 duty the remembrance of many things. She started 
 up again, opening her eyes. 
 
 " Maurice,"" she said, " my father is dead ; he died 
 nearly two hours ago. I had forgotten since you 
 came " She stopped suddenly. In the conflicting 
 lights her red hair looked dark, her grey eyes almost 
 black. 
 
 Strode started. ' Dead ! " he said. " Your father ? " 
 
 "Yes. He has been ill since I came, very, very 
 ill. 11 She caught his hand to reassure him. " We 
 expected it, Maurice ; we knew he \vas going to die."
 
 337 
 
 He gathered his ideas. " And you were alone 
 with him ? " he said slowly. " You mean to say that 
 you were alone absolutely alone with him ? " He 
 looked down, horrified and incredulous. 
 
 She pressed closer. " I was n't afraid, Maurice, 
 I couldn't have been afraid, he was so terribly 
 gentle. He just went out, as you blow a candle. I 
 wasn't a bit afraid till afterwards. Afterwards, 
 when I realised and it grew dark She 
 shivered, laying her face against his sleeve. 
 
 He caught her to him sharply and quickly. " I 
 don't know what to say, Anna. I don't dare ask you 
 to forgive " 
 
 Her eyes widened. " Forgive ? " she said. " For- 
 give what ? " 
 
 " Everything ; but that 's for another day. Come 
 inside." 
 
 Unresistingly she let him lead her through the 
 kitchen door. In the kitchen the slacked fire gave a 
 faint glow. He disengaged himself, struck a match, 
 and lighted the old copper lamp. 
 
 They stood in silence looking at each other, then 
 Strode spoke again gently. 
 
 " I Ve never seen your father, Anna. May I go 
 upstairs ? " 
 
 Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. " Take me 
 with you," she said. " He must know, he must 
 understand now ; and there are things things I 
 want to say." 
 
 He pressed her fingers comprehendingly, then
 
 338 THE CIRCLE 
 
 picked up the lamp. Together they moved to the 
 door, but at the door a new idea struck Anna. 
 
 " Maurice, 11 she said, pausing, " is this the first 
 time that you Ve been here since I came back ? " 
 
 The question was direct. He looked down at her, 
 the full flood of lamplight falling on his face. 
 
 " It 's the tenth time, or the eleventh I "m not 
 sure which. 11 
 
 She gasped and drew back. " Then Johann 11 
 She waited. " Johann ? " 
 
 He laid his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 " Johann is human, Anna very much the same 
 as you or me. 11 
 
 There was silence for a space. He held the lamp 
 above his head steadily. Anna^ eyes were on the 
 ground ; she was fitting things together with dread 
 and doubt. At last, with a rush of apprehension, 
 she looked up afresh. 
 
 " Johann went for you to-night ? It was for you 
 he went ? "" 
 
 Strode nodded. 
 
 "He is alone now? You left him somewhere 
 alone and wretched ? " There was self-accusation 
 and fear in her tone. 
 
 Strode touched her shoulder again. " We all have 
 times when we are best alone fights that we must 
 fight alone. 11 
 
 She continued to look at him. "But Johann, 
 Maurice Johann " 
 
 He moved back into the kitchen, and set down 
 the lamp.
 
 THE CIRCLE 339 
 
 *' Come here,"" he said ; " I have something to say. 1 " 
 
 She moved slowly towards him. He held out his 
 hand. Nervously she laid hers in it. He drew her 
 close, quietly and protectively. 
 
 " Now listen. Once long ago Mrs. Maxtead tried 
 to scare you about Johann you see I know all 
 your secrets. Once long ago she told you that 
 Johann was the type of man who takes his own 
 life under certain circumstances. Now there she 
 was wholly wrong ; I can prove that she was wrong."" 
 
 Anna looked up. He touched her hair fondly. 
 
 " When you left this house eight years ago, you 
 left two people heart-broken. One" he lowered 
 his voice " one of the two gave the greatest proof 
 of heart-break a man can give. You know what I 
 mean. 11 
 
 She bowed her head. 
 
 w But the other " he straightened himself, speak- 
 ing alertly and quick " the other, Anna, what did 
 he do ? Remember, the loss was almost as great to 
 him. What did he do ? Did he kill himself? Did 
 he think of killing himself? No ; he took his place 
 behind the counter and just went on with life." 
 
 Anna moved close to him. " You are very com- 
 forting, Maurice." 
 
 He smiled. ** I 'm just practical, that 's all. They 
 say it 's the weak men who kill themselves. I Ve 
 always doubted that. Johann is standing in chaos 
 now; but things will settle down things have a 
 marvellous, unbelievable way of settling down. He
 
 340 THE CIRCLE 
 
 has come into this world warped. What he wants is 
 a new standpoint. He 's like a plant in poor soil : 
 he wants digging out he wants transplanting. I 
 propose that we do the gardening. AVhat do you 
 say ?" 
 
 Anna was silent. 
 
 " Dearest, you could do a lot, if you only would. 
 A little kindness, a little friendship, is all he really 
 wants. In his soul he never contemplated asking 
 any more I believe that. He used to say you 
 were the sun. Well, most people want a ray cr two 
 of the sun now and then to help them to keep 
 warm."" 
 
 Anna was still silent. Two hot tears fell on 
 Strode's hand. 
 
 He caught her suddenly and closely in his arms. 
 ; ' You see I 'in generous, dear. Do you guess why ? " 
 
 She looked up. Her face was glowing ; her eyes 
 looked clear and steadfast as the sea at Trescar. 
 
 "Why, Maurice?" 
 
 He looked down ; his face caught the glow from 
 hers, and his lips bent. 
 
 " Because I know that I 'm standing in the fall 
 light- 
 
 THE END.
 
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