The Wings of the Dove - Henry James (classic literature books TXT) š
- Author: Henry James
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āA fortnight, yesā āit was a fortnight Friday; but Iāve only been keeping in, you see, with our wonderful system.ā He was so easily justified as that this of itself plainly enough prevented her saying she didnāt see. Their wonderful system was accordingly still vivid for her; and such a gage of its equal vividness for himself was precisely what she must have asked. He hadnāt even to dot his iās beyond the remark that on the very face of it, she would remember, their wonderful system attached no premium to rapidities of transition. āI couldnāt quiteā ādonāt you know?ā ātake my rebound with a rush; and I suppose Iāve been instinctively hanging off to minimise, for you as well as for myself, the appearances of rushing. Thereās a sort of fitness. But I knew youād understand.ā It was presently as if she really understood so well that she almost appealed from his insistenceā āyet looking at him too, he was not unconscious, as if this mastery of fitnesses was a strong sign for her of what she had done to him. He might have struck her as expert for contingencies in the very degree of her having in Venice struck him as expert. He smiled over his plea for a renewal with stages and steps, a thing shaded, as they might say, and graduated; thoughā āfinely as she must respondā āshe met the smile but as she had met his entrance five minutes before. Her soft gravity at that momentā āwhich was yet not solemnity, but the look of a consciousness charged with life to the brim and wishing not to overflowā āhad not qualified her welcome; what had done this being much more the presence in the room, for a couple of minutes, of the footman who had introduced him and who had been interrupted in preparing the tea-table.
Mrs. Lowderās reply to Densherās note had been to appoint the tea-hour, five oāclock on Sunday, for his seeing them. Kate had thereafter wired him, without a signature, āCome on Sunday before teaā āabout a quarter of an hour, which will help usā; and he had arrived therefore scrupulously at twenty minutes to five. Kate was alone in the room and hadnāt delayed to tell him that Aunt Maud, as she had happily gathered, was to be, for the intervalā ānot long but preciousā āengaged with an old servant, retired and pensioned, who had been paying her a visit and who was within the hour to depart again for the suburbs. They were to have the scrap of time, after the withdrawal of the footman, to themselves, and there was a moment when, in spite of their wonderful system, in spite of the proscription of rushes and the propriety of shades, it proclaimed itself indeed precious. And all without prejudiceā āthat was what kept it nobleā āto Kateās high sobriety and her beautiful self-command. If he had his discretion she had her perfect manner, which was her decorum. Mrs. Stringham, he had, to finish with the question of his delay, furthermore observed, Mrs. Stringham would have written to Mrs. Lowder of his having quitted the place; so that it wasnāt as if he were hoping to cheat them. Theyād know he was no longer there.
āYes, weāve known it.ā
āAnd you continue to hear?ā
āFrom Mrs. Stringham? Certainly. By which I mean Aunt Maud does.ā
āThen youāve recent news?ā
Her face showed a wonder. āUp to within a day or two I believe. But havenāt you?ā
āNoā āIāve heard nothing.ā And it was now that he felt how much he had to tell her. āI donāt get letters. But Iāve been sure Mrs. Lowder does.ā With which he added: āThen of course you know.ā He waited as if she would show what she knew; but she only showed in silence the dawn of a surprise that she couldnāt control. There was nothing but for him to ask what he wanted. āIs Miss Theale alive?ā
Kateās look at this was large. āDonāt you know?ā
āHow should I, my dearā āin the absence of everything?ā And he himself stared as for light. āSheās dead?ā Then as with her eyes on him she slowly shook her head he uttered a strange āNot yet?ā
It came out in Kateās face that there were several questions on her lips, but the one she presently put was: āIs it very terrible?ā
āThe manner of her so consciously and helplessly dying?ā He had to think a moment. āWell, yesā āsince you ask me: very terrible to meā āso far as, before I came away, I had any sight of it. But I donāt think,ā he went on, āthatā āthough Iāll tryā āI can quite tell you what it was, what it is, for me. Thatās why I probably just sounded to you,ā he explained, āas if I hoped it might be over.ā
She gave him her quietest attention, but he by this time saw that, so far as telling her all was concerned, she would be divided between the wish and the reluctance to hear it; between the curiosity that, not unnaturally, would consume her and the opposing scruple of a respect for misfortune. The more she studied him tooā āand he had never so felt her closely attached to his faceā āthe more the choice of an attitude would become impossible to her. There would simply be a feeling uppermost, and the feeling wouldnāt be eagerness. This perception grew in him fast, and he even, with his imagination, had for a moment the quick forecast of her possibly breaking out at him, should he go too far, with a wonderful: āWhat horrors are you telling me?ā It would have the soundā āwouldnāt it be open to him fairly to bring that out himself?ā āof a repudiation, for pity and almost for shame, of everything that in Venice had passed between them.
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