The Wings of the Dove Henry James (android based ebook reader TXT) đ
- Author: Henry James
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âOh!â said Lord Mark againâ âand again it was just as good. That was for Densher, the latter could see, or think he saw. And then for the others: âMy fears would want calming. We must take great care of her. This way?â
She went with him a few steps, and while Densher, hanging about, gave them frank attention, presently paused again for some further colloquy. What passed between them their observer lost, but she was presently with him again, Lord Mark joining the rest. Densher was by this time quite ready for her. âItâs he whoâs your auntâs man?â
âOh immensely.â
âI mean for you.â
âThatâs what I mean too,â Kate smiled. âThere he is. Now you can judge.â
âJudge of what?â
âJudge of him.â
âWhy should I judge of him?â Densher asked. âIâve nothing to do with him.â
âThen why do you ask about him?â
âTo judge of youâ âwhich is different.â
Kate seemed for a little to look at the difference. âTo take the measure, do you mean, of my danger?â
He hesitated; then he said: âIâm thinking, I dare say, of Miss Thealeâs. How does your aunt reconcile his interest in herâ â?â
âWith his interest in me?â
âWith her own interest in you,â Densher said while she reflected. âIf that interestâ âMrs. Lowderâsâ âtakes the form of Lord Mark, hasnât he rather to look out for the forms he takes?â
Kate seemed interested in the question, but âOh he takes them easily,â she answered. âThe beauty is that she doesnât trust him.â
âThat Milly doesnât?â
âYesâ âMilly either. But I mean Aunt Maud. Not really.â
Densher gave it his wonder. âTakes him to her heart and yet thinks he cheats?â
âYes,â said Kateâ ââthatâs the way people are. What they think of their enemies, goodness knows, is bad enough; but Iâm still more struck with what they think of their friends. Millyâs own state of mind, however,â she went on, âis lucky. Thatâs Aunt Maudâs security, though she doesnât yet fully recognise itâ âbesides being Millyâs own.â
âYou conceive it a real escape then not to care for him?â
She shook her head in beautiful grave deprecation. âYou oughtnât to make me say too much. But Iâm glad I donât.â
âDonât say too much?â
âDonât care for Lord Mark.â
âOh!â Densher answered with a sound like his lordshipâs own. To which he added: âYou absolutely hold that that poor girl doesnât?â
âAh you know what I hold about that poor girl!â It had made her again impatient.
Yet he stuck a minute to the subject. âYou scarcely call him, I suppose, one of the dukes.â
âMercy, noâ âfar from it. Heâs not, compared with other possibilities, âinâ it. Milly, itâs true,â she said, to be exact, âhas no natural sense of social values, doesnât in the least understand our differences or know whoâs who or whatâs what.â
âI see. That,â Densher laughed, âis her reason for liking me.â
âPrecisely. She doesnât resemble me,â said Kate, âwho at least know what I lose.â
Well, it had all risen for Densher to a considerable interest. âAnd Aunt Maudâ âwhy shouldnât she know? I mean that your friend there isnât really anything. Does she suppose him of ducal value?â
âScarcely; save in the sense of being uncle to a duke. Thatâs undeniably something. Heâs the best moreover we can get.â
âOh, oh!â said Densher; and his doubt was not all derisive.
âIt isnât Lord Markâs grandeur,â she went on without heeding this; âbecause perhaps in the line of that aloneâ âas he has no moneyâ âmore could be done. But sheâs not a bit sordid; she only counts with the sordidness of others. Besides, heâs grand enough, with a duke in his family and at the other end of the string. The thingâs his genius.â
âAnd do you believe in that?â
âIn Lord Markâs genius?â Kate, as if for a more final opinion than had yet been asked of her, took a moment to think. She balanced indeed so that one would scarce have known what to expect; but she came out in time with a very sufficient âYes!â
âPolitical?â
âUniversal. I donât know at least,â she said, âwhat else to call it when a manâs able to make himself without effort, without violence, without machinery of any sort, so intensely felt. He has somehow an effect without his being in any traceable way a cause.â
âAh but if the effect,â said Densher with conscious superficiality, âisnât agreeableâ â?â
âOh but it is!â
âNot surely for everyone.â
âIf you mean not for you,â Kate returned, âyou may have reasonsâ âand men donât count. Women donât know if itâs agreeable or not.â
âThen there you are!â
âYes, preciselyâ âthat takes, on his part, genius.â
Densher stood before her as if he wondered what everything she thus promptly, easily and above all amusingly met him with, would have been found, should it have come to an analysis, to âtake.â Something suddenly, as if under a last determinant touch, welled up in him and overflowedâ âthe sense of his good fortune and her variety, of the future she promised, the interest she supplied. âAll women but you are stupid. How can I look at another? Youâre different and differentâ âand then youâre different again. No marvel Aunt Maud builds on youâ âexcept that youâre so much too good for what she builds for. Even âsocietyâ wonât know how good for it you are; itâs too stupid, and youâre beyond it. Youâd have to pull it uphillâ âitâs you yourself who are at the top. The women one meetsâ âwhat are they but books one has already read? Youâre a whole library of the unknown, the uncut.â He almost moaned, he ached, from the depth of his content. âUpon my word Iâve a subscription!â
She took it from him with her face again
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