I
"Then it has been--what do you say? a whole fortnight?--without your
making a sign?"
Kate put that to him distinctly, in the December dusk of Lancaster Gate
and on the matter of the time he had been back; but he saw with it
straightway that she was as admirably true as ever to her
instinct--which was a system as well--of not admitting the possibility
between them of small resentments, of trifles to trip up their general
trust. That by itself, the renewed beauty of it, would at this fresh
sight of her have stirred him to his depths if something else,
something no less vivid but quite separate, hadn't stirred him still
more. It was in seeing her that he felt what their interruption had
been, and that they met across it even as persons whose adventures, on
either side, in time and space, of the nature of perils and exiles, had
had a peculiar strangeness. He wondered if he were as different for her
as she herself had immediately appeared: which was but his way indeed
of taking in, with his thrill, that--even going by the mere first
look--she had never been so handsome. That fact bloomed for him, in the
firelight and lamplight that glowed their welcome through the London
fog, as the flower of her difference; just as her difference
itself--part of which was her striking him as older in a degree for
which no mere couple of months could account--was the fruit of their
intimate relation. If she was different it was because they had chosen
together that she should be, and she might now, as a proof of their
wisdom, their success, of the reality of what had happened--of what in
fact, for the spirit of each, was still happening--been showing it to
him for pride. His having returned and yet kept, for numbered days, so
still, had been, he was quite aware, the first point he should have to
tackle; with which consciousness indeed he had made a clean breast of
it in finally addressing Mrs. Lowder a note that had led to his present
visit. He had written to Aunt Maud as the finer way; and it would
doubtless have been to be noted that he needed no effort not to write
to Kate. Venice was three weeks behind him--he had come up slowly; but
it was still as if even in London he must conform to her law. That was
exactly how he was able, with his faith in her steadiness, to appeal to
her feeling for the situation and explain his stretched delicacy. He
had come to tell her everything, so far as occasion would serve them;
and if nothing was more distinct than that his slow journey, his waits,
his delay to reopen communication had kept pace with this resolve, so
the inconsequence was doubtless at bottom but one of the elements of
intensity. He was gathering everything up, everything he should tell
her. That took time, and the proof was that, as he felt on the spot, he
couldn't have brought it all with him before this afternoon. He _had_
brought it, to the last syllable, and, out of the quantity it wouldn't
be hard--as he in fact found--to produce, for Kate's understanding, his
first reason.
"A fortnight, yes--it was a fortnight Friday; but I've only been
keeping in, you see, with our wonderful system." He was so easily
justified as that this of itself plainly enough prevented her saying
she didn't 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 hadn't even to dot his i's beyond the
remark that on the very face of it, she would remember, their wonderful
system attached no premium to rapidities of transition. "I couldn't
quite--don't you know?--take my rebound with a rush; and I suppose I've
been instinctively hanging off to minimise, for you as well as for
myself, the appearances of rushing. There's a sort of fitness. But I
knew you'd understand." It was presently as if she really understood so
well that she almost appealed from his insistence--yet 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; though--finely as she must respond--she met the smile but as
she had met his entrance five minutes before. Her soft gravity at that
moment--which was yet not solemnity, but the look of a consciousness
charged with life to the brim and wishing not to overflow--had 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. Lowder's reply to Densher's note had been to appoint the tea-hour,
five o'clock on Sunday, for his seeing them. Kate had thereafter wired
him, without a signature, "Come on Sunday _before_ tea--about a quarter
of an hour, which will help us"; and he had arrived therefore
scrupulously at twenty minutes to five. Kate was alone in the room and
hadn't delayed to tell him that Aunt Maud, as she had happily gathered,
was to be, for the interval--not long but precious--engaged 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 prejudice--that was
what kept it noble--to Kate's 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
wasn't as if he were hoping to cheat them. They'd know he was no longer
there.
"Yes, we've known it."
"And you continue to hear?"
"From Mrs. Stringham? Certainly. By which I mean Aunt Maud does."
"Then you've recent news?"
Her face showed a wonder. "Up to within a day or two I believe. But
haven't _you?_"
"No--I've heard nothing." And it was now that he felt how much he had
to tell her. "I don't get letters. But I've been sure Mrs. Lowder
does." With which he added: "Then of course you know." He waited as if
she would show what she knew; but she only showed in silence the dawn
of a surprise that she couldn't control. There was nothing but for him
to ask what he wanted. "Is Miss Theale alive?"