The Wings of the Dove Henry James (android based ebook reader TXT) đ
- Author: Henry James
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He didnât however take this up; there were things about which he wished first to be clear. âThereâs no other possibility, by what you now know? I mean for her life.â And he had just to insistâ âshe would say as little as she could. âShe is dying?â
âSheâs dying.â
It was strange to him, in the matter of Milly, that Lancaster Gate could make him any surer; yet what in the world, in the matter of Milly, wasnât strange? Nothing was so much so as his own behaviourâ âhis present as well as his past. He could but do as he must. âHas Sir Luke Strett,â he asked, âgone back to her?â
âI believe heâs there now.â
âThen,â said Densher, âitâs the end.â
She took it in silence for whatever he deemed it to be; but she spoke otherwise after a minute. âYou wonât know, unless youâve perhaps seen him yourself, that Aunt Maud has been to him.â
âOh!â Densher exclaimed, with nothing to add to it.
âFor real news,â Kate herself after an instant added.
âShe hasnât thought Mrs. Stringhamâs real?â
âItâs perhaps only I who havenât. It was on Aunt Maudâs trying again three days ago to see him that she heard at his house of his having gone. He had started I believe some days before.â
âAnd wonât then by this time be back?â
Kate shook her head. âShe sent yesterday to know.â
âHe wonât leave her thenââ âDensher had turned it overâ ââwhile she lives. Heâll stay to the end. Heâs magnificent.â
âI think she is,â said Kate.
It had made them again look at each other long; and what it drew from him rather oddly was: âOh you donât know!â
âWell, sheâs after all my friend.â
It was somehow, with her handsome demur, the answer he had least expected of her; and it fanned with its breath, for a brief instant, his old sense of her variety. âI see. You would have been sure of it. You were sure of it.â
âOf course I was sure of it.â
And a pause again, with this, fell upon them; which Densher, however, presently broke. âIf you donât think Mrs. Stringhamâs news ârealâ what do you think of Lord Markâs?â
She didnât think anything. âLord Markâs?â
âYou havenât seen him?â
âNot since he saw her.â
âYouâve known then of his seeing her?â
âCertainly. From Mrs. Stringham.â
âAnd have you known,â Densher went on, âthe rest?â
Kate wondered. âWhat rest?â
âWhy everything. It was his visit that she couldnât standâ âit was what then took place that simply killed her.â
âOh!â Kate seriously breathed. But she had turned pale, and he saw that, whatever her degree of ignorance of these connections, it wasnât put on. âMrs. Stringham hasnât said that.â
He observed none the less that she didnât ask what had then taken place; and he went on with his contribution to her knowledge. âThe way it affected her was that it made her give up. She has given up beyond all power to care again, and thatâs why sheâs dying.â
âOh!â Kate once more slowly sighed, but with a vagueness that made him pursue.
âOne can see now that she was living by willâ âwhich was very much what you originally told me of her.â
âI remember. That was it.â
âWell then her will, at a given moment, broke down, and the collapse was determined by that fellowâs dastardly stroke. He told her, the scoundrel, that you and I are secretly engaged.â
Kate gave a quick glare. âBut he doesnât know it!â
âThat doesnât matter. She did by the time he had left her. Besides,â Densher added, âhe does know it. When,â he continued, âdid you last see him?â
But she was lost now in the picture before her. âThat was what made her worse?â
He watched her take it inâ âit so added to her sombre beauty. Then he spoke as Mrs. Stringham had spoken. âShe turned her face to the wall.â
âPoor Milly!â said Kate.
Slight as it was, her beauty somehow gave it style; so that he continued consistently: âShe learned it, you see, too soonâ âsince of course oneâs idea had been that she might never even learn it at all. And she had felt sureâ âthrough everything we had doneâ âof there not being between us, so far at least as you were concerned, anything she need regard as a warning.â
She took another moment for thought. âIt wasnât through anything you didâ âwhatever that may have beenâ âthat she gained her certainty. It was by the conviction she got from me.â
âOh itâs very handsome,â Densher said, âfor you to take your share!â
âDo you suppose,â Kate asked, âthat I think of denying it?â
Her look and her tone made him for the instant regret his comment, which indeed had been the first that rose to his lips as an effect absolutely of what they would have called between them her straightness. Her straightness, visibly, was all his own loyalty could ask. Still, that was comparatively beside the mark. âOf course I donât suppose anything but that weâre together in our recognitions, our responsibilitiesâ âwhatever we choose to call them. It isnât a question for us of apportioning shares or distinguishing invidiously among such impressions as it was our idea to give.â
âIt wasnât your idea to give impressions,â said Kate.
He met this with a smile that he himself felt, in its strained character, as queer. âDonât go into that!â
It was perhaps not as going
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