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conclusion in her mind which finished the sum for the
present； at least； she changed the focus of her eyes； and
saw nothing but the stars。
Tonight they seemed fixed with unusual firmness in
the blue； and flashed back such a ripple of light into her
eyes that she found herself thinking that tonight the
stars were happy。 Without knowing or caring more for
Church practices than most people of her age； Katharine
could not look into the sky at Christmas time without
feeling that； at this one season； the Heavens bend over
the earth with sympathy； and signal with immortal radiance
that they； too； take part in her festival。 Somehow； it
seemed to her that they were even now beholding the
procession of kings and wise men upon some road on a
distant part of the earth。 And yet； after gazing for another
second； the stars did their usual work upon the
mind； froze to cinders the whole of our short human history；
and reduced the human body to an apelike； furry
form； crouching amid the brushwood of a barbarous clod
of mud。 This stage was soon succeeded by another； in
which there was nothing in the universe save stars and
the light of stars； as she looked up the pupils of her eyes
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Night and Day
so dilated with starlight that the whole of her seemed
dissolved in silver and spilt over the ledges of the stars
for ever and ever indefinitely through space。 Somehow
simultaneously； though incongruously； she was riding with
the magnanimous hero upon the shore or under forest
trees； and so might have continued were it not for the
rebuke forcibly administered by the body； which； content
with the normal conditions of life； in no way furthers any
attempt on the part of the mind to alter them。 She grew
cold； shook herself； rose； and walked towards the house。
By the light of the stars； Stogdon House looked pale
and romantic； and about twice its natural size。 Built by a
retired admiral in the early years of the nieenth century；
the curving bow windows of the front； now filled
with reddishyellow light； suggested a portly threedecker；
sailing seas where those dolphins and narwhals who disport
themselves upon the edges of old maps were scattered
with an impartial hand。 A semicircular flight of shallow
steps led to a very large door； which Katharine had
left ajar。 She hesitated； cast her eyes over the front of
the house； marked that a light burnt in one small window
upon an upper floor； and pushed the door open。 For a
moment she stood in the square hall； among many horned
skulls； sallow globes； cracked oilpaintings； and stuffed
owls； hesitating； it seemed； whether she should open the
door on her right； through which the stir of life reached
her ears。 Listening for a moment； she heard a sound which
decided her； apparently； not to enter； her uncle； Sir Francis；
was playing his nightly game of whist； it appeared probable
that he was losing。
She went up the curving stairway； which represented
the one attempt at ceremony in the otherwise rather dilapidated
mansion； and down a narrow passage until she
came to the room whose light she had seen from the
garden。 Knocking； she was told to e in。 A young man；
Henry Otway； was reading； with his feet on the fender。
He had a fine head； the brow arched in the Elizabethan
manner； but the gentle； honest eyes were rather skeptical
than glowing with the Elizabethan vigor。 He gave the
impression that he had not yet found the cause which
suited his temperament。
He turned； put down his book； and looked at her。 He
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noticed her rather pale； dewdrenched look； as of one
whose mind is not altogether settled in the body。 He had
often laid his difficulties before her； and guessed； in some
ways hoped； that perhaps she now had need of him。 At
the same time； she carried on her life with such independence
that he scarcely expected any confidence to be
expressed in words。
“You have fled； too； then？” he said； looking at her cloak。
Katharine had forgotten to remove this token of her stargazing。
“Fled？” she asked。 “From whom d’you mean？ Oh； the
family party。 Yes； it was hot down there； so I went into
the garden。”
“And aren’t you very cold？” Henry inquired； placing coal
on the fire； drawing a chair up to the grate； and laying
aside her cloak。 Her indifference to such details often
forced Henry to act the part generally taken by women in
such dealings。 It was one of the ties between them。
“Thank you； Henry；” she said。 “I’m not disturbing you？”
“I’m not here。 I’m at Bungay；” he replied。 “I’m giving a
music lesson to Harold and Julia。 That was why I had to
leave the table with the ladies—I’m spending the night
there； and I shan’t be back till late on Christmas Eve。”
“How I wish—” Katharine began； and stopped short。 “I
think these parties are a great mistake；” she added briefly；
and sighed。
“Oh； horrible！” he agreed； and they both fell silent。
Her sigh made him look at her。 Should he venture to
ask her why she sighed？ Was her reticence about her own
affairs as inviolable as it had often been convenient for
rather an egoistical young man to think it？ But since her
engagement to Rodney； Henry’s feeling towards her had
bee rather plex； equally divided between an impulse
to hurt her and an impulse to be tender to her； and
all the time he suffered a curious irritation from the sense
that she was drifting away from him for ever upon unknown
seas。 On her side； directly Katharine got into his
presence； and the sense of the stars dropped from her；
she knew that any intercourse between people is extremely
partial； from the whole mass of her feelings； only one or
two could be selected for Henry’s inspection； and therefore
she sighed。 Then she looked at him； and their eyes
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Night and Day
meeting； much more seemed to be in mon between them
than had appeared possible。 At any rate they had a grandfather
in mon； at any rate there was a kind of loyalty
between them sometimes found between relations who have
no other cause to like each other； as these two had。
“Well； what’s the date of the wedding？” said Henry； the
malicious mood now predominating。
“I think some time in March；” she replied。
“And afterwards？” he asked。
“We take a house； I suppose； somewhere in Chelsea。”
“It’s very interesting；” he observed； stealing another
look at her。
She lay back in her armchair； her feet high upon the
side of the grate； and in front of her； presumably to screen
her eyes； she held a newspaper from which she picked up
a sentence or two now and again。 Observing this； Henry
remarked：
“Perhaps marriage will make you more human。”
At this she lowered the newspaper an inch or two； but
said nothing。 Indeed； she sat quite silent for over a
minute。
“When you consider things like the stars； our affairs
don’t seem to matter very much； do they？” she said suddenly。
“I don’t think I ever do consider things like the stars；”
Henry replied。 “I’m not sure that that’s not the explanation；
though；” he added； now observing her steadily。
“I doubt whether there is an explanation；” she replied
rather hurriedly； not clearly understanding what he meant。
“What？ No explanation of anything？” he inquired； with
a smile。
“Oh； things happen。 That’s about all；” she let drop in
her casual； decided way。
“That certainly seems to explain some of your actions；”
Henry thought to himself。
“One thing’s about as good as another； and one’s got to
do something；” he said aloud； expressing what he supposed
to be her attitude； much in her accent。 Perhaps
she detected the imitation； for looking gently at him；
she said； with ironical posure：
“Well； if you believe that your life must be simple；
Henry。”
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“But I don’t believe it；” he said shortly。
“No more do I；” she replied。
“What about the stars？” he asked a moment later。 “I
understand that you rule your life by the stars？”
She let this pass； either