Thanks to Mr. Flushing's discipline, the right stages of the riverwere reached at the right hours, and when next morning afterbreakfast the chairs were again drawn out in a semicircle in the bow,the launch was within a few miles of the native camp which wasthe limit of the journey. Mr. Flushing, as he sat down, advised themto keep their eyes fixed on the left bank, where they would soonpass a clearing, and in that clearing, was a hut where Mackenzie,the famous explorer, had died of fever some ten years ago,almost within reach of civilisation--Mackenzie, he repeated,the man who went farther inland than any one's been yet. Their eyesturned that way obediently. The eyes of Rachel saw nothing.

　　Yellow and green shapes did, it is true, pass before them, but sheonly knew that one was large and another small; she did not knowthat they were trees. These directions to look here and thereirritated her, as interruptions irritate a person absorbed in thought,although she was not thinking of anything. She was annoyed with allthat was said, and with the aimless movements of people's bodies,because they seemed to interfere with her and to prevent her fromspeaking to Terence. Very soon Helen saw her staring moodilyat a coil of rope, and making no effort to listen. Mr. Flushingand St. John were engaged in more or less continuous conversationabout the future of the country from a political point of view,and the degree to which it had been explored; the others, with theirlegs stretched out, or chins poised on the hands, gazed in silence.

　　Mrs. Ambrose looked and listened obediently enough, but inwardlyshe was prey to an uneasy mood not readily to be ascribed to anyone cause. Looking on shore as Mr. Flushing bade her, she thoughtthe country very beautiful, but also sultry and alarming.

　　She did not like to feel herself the victim of unclassified emotions,and certainly as the launch slipped on and on, in the hot morning sun,she felt herself unreasonably moved. Whether the unfamiliarityof the forest was the cause of it, or something less definite,she could not determine. Her mind left the scene and occupied itselfwith anxieties for Ridley, for her children, for far-off things,such as old age and poverty and death. Hirst, too, was depressed.

　　He had been looking forward to this expedition as to a holiday, for,once away from the hotel, surely wonderful things would happen,instead of which nothing happened, and here they were as uncomfortable,as restrained, as self-conscious as ever. That, of course, was whatcame of looking forward to anything; one was always disappointed.

　　He blamed Wilfrid Flushing, who was so well dressed and so formal;he blamed Hewet and Rachel. Why didn't they talk? He looked atthem sitting silent and self-absorbed, and the sight annoyed him.

　　He supposed that they were engaged, or about to become engaged,but instead of being in the least romantic or exciting, that was as dullas everything else; it annoyed him, too, to think that they were in love.

　　He drew close to Helen and began to tell her how uncomfortable his nighthad been, lying on the deck, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold,and the stars so bright that he couldn't get to sleep. He had lainawake all night thinking, and when it was light enough to see,he had written twenty lines of his poem on God, and the awful thingwas that he'd practically proved the fact that God did not exist.

　　He did not see that he was teasing her, and he went on to wonderwhat would happen if God did exist--"an old gentleman in a beard anda long blue dressing gown, extremely testy and disagreeable as he'sbound to be? Can you suggest a rhyme? God, rod, sod--all used;any others?"Although he spoke much as usual, Helen could have seen, had she looked,that he was also impatient and disturbed. But she was not called uponto answer, for Mr. Flushing now exclaimed "There!" They looked at the huton the bank, a desolate place with a large rent in the roof, and theground round it yellow, scarred with fires and scattered with rusty open tins.

　　"Did they find his dead body there?" Mrs. Flushing exclaimed,leaning forward in her eagerness to see the spot where the explorerhad died.

　　"They found his body and his skins and a notebook," her husband replied.

　　But the boat had soon carried them on and left the place behind.

　　It was so hot that they scarcely moved, except now to changea foot, or, again, to strike a match. Their eyes, concentrated uponthe bank, were full of the same green reflections, and their lipswere slightly pressed together as though the sights they were passinggave rise to thoughts, save that Hirst's lips moved intermittentlyas half consciously he sought rhymes for God. Whatever the thoughtsof the others, no one said anything for a considerable space.

　　They had grown so accustomed to the wall of trees on either sidethat they looked up with a start when the light suddenly widenedout and the trees came to an end.

　　"It almost reminds one of an English park," said Mr. Flushing.

　　Indeed no change could have been greater. On both banks of the river layan open lawn-like space, grass covered and planted, for the gentlenessand order of the place suggested human care, with graceful treeson the top of little mounds. As far as they could gaze, this lawnrose and sank with the undulating motion of an old English park.

　　The change of scene naturally suggested a change of position,grateful to most of them. They rose and leant over the rail.

　　"It might be Arundel or Windsor," Mr. Flushing continued, "if youcut down that bush with the yellow flowers; and, by Jove, look!"Rows of brown backs paused for a moment and then leapt with a motionas if they were springing over waves out of sight.

　　for a moment no one of them could believe that they had reallyseen live animals in the open--a herd of wild deer, and the sightaroused a childlike excitement in them, dissipating their gloom.

　　"I've never in my life seen anything bigger than a hare!"Hirst exclaimed with genuine excitement. "What an ass I was notto bring my Kodak!"Soon afterwards the launch came gradually to a standstill,and the captain explained to Mr. Flushing that it would be pleasantfor the passengers if they now went for a stroll on shore; if theychose to return within an hour, he would take them on to the village;if they chose to walk--it was only a mile or two farther on--he would meet them at the landing-place.

　　The matter being settled, they were once more put on shore:

　　the sailors, producing raisins and tobacco, leant upon the railand watched the six English, whose coats and dresses looked sostrange upon the green, wander off. A joke that was by no meansproper set them all laughing, and then they turned round and layat their ease upon the deck.

　　Directly they landed, Terence and Rachel drew together slightlyin advance of the others.

　　"Thank God!" Terence exclaimed, drawing a long breath. "At lastwe're alone.""And if we keep ahead we can talk," said Rachel.

　　Nevertheless, although their position some yards in advance ofthe others made it possible for them to say anything they chose,they were both silent.

　　"You love me?" Terence asked at length, breaking the silence painfully.

　　To speak or to be silent was equally an effort, for when theywere silent they were keenly conscious of each other's presence,and yet words were either too trivial or too large.

　　She murmured inarticulately, ending, "And you?""Yes, yes," he replied; but there were so many things to be said,and now that they were alone it seemed necessary to bring themselvesstill more near, and to surmount a barrier which had grown upsince they had last spoken. It was difficult, frightening even,oddly embarrassing. At one moment he was clear-sighted, and,at the next, confused.

　　"Now I'm going to begin at the beginning," he said resolutely.

　　"I'm going to tell you what I ought to have told you before.

　　In the first place, I've never been in love with other women,but I've had other women. Then I've great faults. I'm very lazy,I'm moody--" He persisted, in spite of her exclamation, "You've gotto know the worst of me. I'm lustful. I'm overcome by a senseof futility--incompetence. I ought never to have asked you to marry me,I expect. I'm a bit of a snob; I'm ambitious--""Oh, our faults!" she cried. "What do they matter?" Then she demanded,"Am I in love--is this being in love--are we to marry each other?"Overcome by the charm of her voice and her presence, he exclaimed,"Oh, you're free, Rachel. To you, time will make no difference,or marriage or--"The voices of the others behind them kept floating, now farther,now nearer, and Mrs. Flushing's laugh rose clearly by itself.

　　"Marriage?" Rachel repeated.

　　The shouts were renewed behind, warning them that they were bearingtoo far to the left. Improving their course, he continued,"Yes, marriage." The feeling that they could not be united untilshe knew all about him made him again endeavour to explain.

　　"All that's been bad in me, the things I've put up with--the second best--"She murmured, considered her own life, but could not describehow it looked to her now.

　　"And the loneliness!" he continued. A vision of walking with herthrough the streets of London came before his eyes. "We will go forwalks together," he said. The simplicity of the idea relieved them,and for the first time they laughed. They would have liked hadthey dared to take each other by the hand, but the consciousnessof eyes fixed on them from behind had not yet deserted them.

　　"Books, people, sights--Mrs. Nutt, Greeley, Hutchinson," Hewet murmured.

　　With every word the mist which had enveloped them, making themseem unreal to each other, since the previous afternoon melteda little further, and their contact became more and more natural.

　　Up through the sultry southern landscape they saw the world they knewappear clearer and more vividly than it had ever appeared before Asupon that occasion at the hotel when she had sat in the window,the world once more arranged itself beneath her gaze very vividlyand in its true proportions. She glanced curiously at Terencefrom time to time, observing his grey coat and his purple tie;observing the man with whom she was to spend the rest of her life.

　　After one of these glances she murmured, "Yes, I'm in love.

　　There's no doubt; I'm in love with you."Nevertheless, they remained uncomfortably apart; drawn soclose together, as she spoke, that there seemed no divisionbetween them, and the next moment separate and far away again.

　　Feeling this painfully, she exclaimed, "It will be a fight."But as she looked at him she perceived from the shape of his eyes,the lines about his mouth, and other peculiarities that he pleased her,and she added:

　　"Where I want to fight, you have compassion. You're finer than I am;you're much finer."He returned her glance and smiled, perceiving, much as she had done,the very small individual things about her which made her delightfulto him. She was his for ever. This barrier being surmounted,innumerable delights lay before them both.

　　"I'm not finer," he answered. "I'm only older, lazier; a man,not a woman.""A man," she repeated, and a curious sense of possession comingover her, it struck her that she might now touch him; she put outher hand and lightly touched his cheek. His fingers followed wherehers had been, and the touch of his hand upon his face brought backthe overpowering sense of unreality. This body of his was unreal;the whole world was unreal.

　　"What's happened?" he began. "Why did I ask you to marry me?

　　How did it happen?""Did you ask me to marry you?" she wondered. They faded far awayfrom each other, and neither of them could remember what had been said.

　　"We sat upon the ground," he recollected.

　　"We sat upon the ground," she confirmed him. The recollection of sittingupon the ground, such as it was, seemed to unite them again, and theywalked on in silence, their minds sometimes working with difficultyand sometimes ceasing to work, their eyes alone perceiving the thingsround them. Now he would attempt again to tell her his faults,and why he loved her; and she would describe what she had felt at thistime or at that time, and together they would interpret her feeling.

　　So beautiful was the sound of their voices that by degrees theyscarcely listened to the words they framed. Long silences came betweentheir words, which were no longer silences of struggle and confusionbut refreshing silences, in which trivial thoughts moved easily.

　　They began to speak naturally of ordinary things, of the flowersand the trees, how they grew there so red, like garden flowersat home, and there bent and crooked like the arm of a twisted old man.

　　Very gently and quietly, almost as if it were the blood singingin her veins, or the water of the stream running over stones,Rachel became conscious of a new feeling within her. She wonderedfor a moment what it was, and then said to herself, with a littlesurprise at recognising in her own person so famous a thing:

　　"This is happiness, I suppose." And aloud to Terence she spoke,"This is happiness."On the heels of her words he answered, "This is happiness,"upon which they guessed that the feeling had sprung in both of themthe same time. They began therefore to describe how this feltand that felt, how like it was and yet how different; for theywere very different.

　　Voices crying behind them never reached through the waters in whichthey were now sunk. The ............