WhenCarolinewastwenty-fourshemarriedHowardNoble，thenawidowerofforty，whohadbeenfortenyearsapowerinWallStreet。Then，forthefirsttime，shehadpausedtotakebreath。
　　Ittookasubstantialnessasunquestionableashis；hismoney，hisposition，hisenergy，thebigvigorofhisrobustperson，tosatisfyherthatshewasentirelysafe。Thensherelaxedalittle，feelingthattherewasabarriertobecounteduponbetweenherandthatworldofvisionsandquagmiresandfailure。
　　CarolinehadbeenmarriedforsixyearswhenRaymondd’Esquerrecametostaywiththem。HecamechieflybecauseCarolinewaswhatshewas；becausehe，too，feltoccasionallytheneedofgettingoutofKlingsor’sgarden，ofdroppingdownsomewhereforatimenearaquietnature，acoolhead，astronghand。Thehourshehadspentinthegardenlodgewerehoursofsuchconcentratedstudyas，inhisfeveredlife，heseldomgotinanywhere。Shehad，ashetoldNoble，afineappreciationoftheseriousnessofwork。
　　Oneeveningtwoweeksafterd’Esquerrehadsailed，Carolinewasinthelibrarygivingherhusbandanaccountoftheworkshehadlaidoutforthegardeners。Shesuperintendedthecareofthegroundsherself。Hergarden，indeed，hadbecomequiteapartofher；asortofbeautifuladjunct，likegownsorjewels。Itwasafamousspot，andNoblewasveryproudofit。
　　“Whatdoyouthink，Caroline，ofhavingthegardenlodgetorndownandputtinganewsummerhousethereattheendofthearbor；abigrusticaffairwhereyoucouldhaveteaservedinmidsummer？“heasked。
　　“Thelodge？“repeatedCarolinelookingathimquickly。“Why，thatseemsalmostashame，doesn’tit，afterd’Esquerrehasusedit？“
　　Nobleputdownhisbookwithasmileofamusement。
　　“Areyougoingtobesentimentalaboutit？Why，I’dsacrificethewholeplacetoseethatcometopass。ButIdon’tbelieveyoucoulddoitforanhourtogether。“
　　“Idon’tbelieveso，either，“saidhiswife，smiling。
　　NobletookuphisbookagainandCarolinewentintothemusicroomtopractice。Shewasnotreadytohavethelodgetorndown。Shehadgonethereforaquiethoureverydayduringthetwoweekssinced’Esquerrehadleftthem。Itwasthesheerestsentimentshehadeverpermittedherself。Shewasashamedofit，butshewaschildishlyunwillingtoletitgo。
　　Carolinewenttobedsoonafterherhusband，butshewasnotabletosleep。Thenightwascloseandwarm，presagingstorm。
　　Thewindhadfallen，andthewaterslept，fixedandmotionlessasthesand。Sheroseandthrustherfeetintoslippersand，puttingadressinggownoverhershoulders，openedthedoorofherhusband’sroom；hewassleepingsoundly。Shewentintothehallanddownthestairs；then，leavingthehousethroughasidedoor，steppedintothevine-coveredarborthatledtothegardenlodge。ThescentoftheJuneroseswasheavyinthestillair，andthestonesthatpavedthepathfeltpleasantlycoolthroughthethinsolesofherslippers。Heat-lightningflashedcontinuouslyfromthebankofcloudsthathadgatheredoverthesea，buttheshorewasfloodedwithmoonlightand，beyond，therimoftheSoundlaysmoothandshining。Carolinehadthekeyofthelodge，andthedoorcreakedassheopenedit。Shesteppedintothelong，lowroomradiantwiththemoonlightwhichstreamedthroughthebowwindowandlayinasilverypoolalongthewaxedfloor。Eventhatpartoftheroomwhichlayintheshadowwasvaguelyilluminated；thepiano，thetallcandlesticks，thepictureframesandwhitecastsstandingoutasclearlyinthehalf-lightasdidthesycamoresandblackpoplarsofthegardenagainstthestill，expectantnightsky。Carolinesatdowntothinkitallover。Shehadcomeheretodojustthateverydayofthetwoweekssinced’Esquerre’sdeparture，but，farfromeverhavingreachedaconclusion，shehadsucceededonlyinlosingherwayinamazeofmemories——sometimesbewilderinglyconfused，sometimestooacutelydistinct——wheretherewasneitherpath，norclue，noranyhopeoffinality。Shehad，sherealized，defeatedalifelongregimen；completelyconfoundedherselfbyfallingunawareandincontinentlyintothatluxuryofreveriewhich，evenasalittlegirl，shehadsodeterminedlydeniedherself，shehadbeendevelopingwithalarmingceleritythatpartofonewhichsetsupanidolandthatpartofonewhichbowsdownandworshipsit。
　　Itwasamistake，shefelt，evertohaveaskedd’Esquerretocomeatall。Shehadanangryfeelingthatshehaddoneitratherinself-defiance，toridherselffinallyofthatinstinctivefearofhimwhichhadalwaystroubledandperplexedher。Sheknewthatshehadreckonedwithherselfbeforehecame；butshehadbeenequaltosomuchthatshehadneverreallydoubtedshewouldbeequaltothis。Shehadcometobelieve，indeed，almostarrogantlyinherownmalleabilityandendurance；shehaddonesomuchwithherselfthatshehadcometothinkthattherewasnothingwhichshecouldnotdo；likeswimmers，overbold，whoreckonupontheirstrengthandtheirpowertohoardit，forgettingtheever-changingmoodsoftheiradversary，thesea。
　　Andd’Esquerrewasamantoreckonwith。Carolinedidnotdeceiveherselfnowuponthatscore。Sheadmittedithumblyenough，andsinceshehadsaidgood-bytohimshehadnotbeenfreeforamomentfromthesenseofhisformidablepower。Itformedtheundercurrentofherconsciousness；whatevershemightbedoingorthinking，itwenton，involuntarily，likeherbreathing，sometimeswellingupuntilsuddenlyshefoundherselfsuffocating。Therewasamomentofthistonight，andCarolineroseandstoodshuddering，lookingaboutherintheblueduskinessofthesilentroom。Shehadnotbeenhereatnightbefore，andthespiritoftheplaceseemedmoretroubledandinsistentthaneverithadinthequietoftheafternoons。
　　Carolinebrushedherhairbackfromherdampforeheadandwentovertothebowwindow。Afterraisingitshesatdownuponthelowseat。Leaningherheadagainstthesill，andlooseninghernightgownatthethroat，shehalf-closedhereyesandlookedoffintothetroublednight，watchingtheplayoftheheat-lightninguponthemassingcloudsbetweenthepointedtopsofthepoplars。
　　Yes，sheknew，sheknewwellenough，ofwhatabsurditiesthisspellwaswoven；shemocked，evenwhileshewinced。Hispower，sheknew，laynotsomuchinanythingthatheactuallyhad——thoughhehadsomuch——orinanythingthatheactuallywas，butinwhathesuggested，inwhatheseemedpicturesqueenoughtohaveorbeandthatwasjustanythingthatonechosetobelieveortodesire。Hisappealwasallthemorepersuasiveandalluringinthatitwastotheimaginationalone，inthatitwasasindefiniteandimpersonalasthosecultsofidealismwhichsohavetheirwaywithwomen。Whathehadwasthat，inhismerepersonality，hequickenedandinameasuregratifiedthatsomethingwithoutwhich——towomen——lifeisnobetterthansawdust，andtothedesireforwhichmostoftheirmistakesandtragediesandastonishinglypoorbargainsaredue。
　　D’Esquerrehadbecomethecenterofamovement，andtheMetropolitanhadbecomethetempleofacult。WhenhecouldbeinducedtocrosstheAtlantic，theoperaseasoninNewYorkwassuccessful；whenhecouldnot，themanagementlostmoney；somucheveryoneknew。Itwasunderstood，too，thathissuperbarthaddisproportionatelylittletodowithhispeculiarposition。
　　Womenswayedthebalancethiswayorthat；theopera，theorchestra，evenhisowngloriousart，achievedatsuchacost，werebuttheaccessoriesofhimself；likethesceneryandcostumesandeventhesoprano，theyallwenttoproduceatmosphere，werethemeremechanicsofthebeautifulillusion。
　　Carolineunderstoodallthis；tonightwasnotthefirsttimethatshehadputittoherselfso。Shehadseenthesamefeelinginotherpeople，watchedforitinherfriends，studieditinthehousenightafternightwhenhesang，candidlyputtingherselfamongathousandothers。
　　D’Esquerre’sarrivalintheearlywinterwasthesignalforafemininehegiratowardNewYork。OnthenightswhenhesangwomenflockedtotheMetropolitanfrommansionsandhotels，fromtypewriterdesks，schoolrooms，shops，andfittingrooms。Theywereofallconditionsandcomplexions。Womenoftheworldwhoacceptedhimknowinglyastheysometimestookchampagneforitsagreeableeffect；sistersofcharityandoverworkedshopgirls，whoreceivedhimdevoutly；witheredwomenwhohadtakendoctoratedegreesandwhoworshippedfurtivelythroughprismspectacles；
　　businesswomenandwomenofaffairs，theAmazonswhodweltafarfrommeninthestonyfastnessesofapartmenthouses。Theyallenteredintothesameromance；dreamed，intermsasvariousasthehuesoffantasy，thesamedream；drewthesamequickbreathwhenhesteppeduponthestage，and，athisexit，feltthesamedullpainofshoulderingthepackagain。
　　Therewerethemaimed，even；thosewhocameoncrutches，whowerepittedbysmallpoxorgrotesquelypaintedbycruelbirthstains。These，too，enteredwithhimintoenchantment。Stoutmatronsbecameslendergirlsagain；wornspinstersfelttheircheeksflushwiththetendernessoftheirlostyouth。Youngandold，howeverhideous，howeverfair，theyyieldeduptheirheat——
　　whetherquickorlatent——sathungeringforthemysticbreadwherewithhefedthematthiseucharistofsentiment。
　　Sometimes，whenthehousewascrowdedfromtheorchestratothelastrowofthegallery，whentheairwaschargedwiththisecstasyoffancy，hehimselfwasthevictimoftheburningreflectionofhispower。Theyacteduponhiminturn；hefelttheirferventanddespairingappealtohim；itstirredhimasthespringdrivesthesapupintoanoldtree；he，too，burstintobloom。Forthemomenthe，too，believedagain，desiredagain，heknewnotwhat，butsomething。
　　ButitwasnotintheseexaltedmomentsthatCarolinehadlearnedtofearhimmost。Itwasinthequiet，tiredreserve，thedullness，even，thatkepthimcompanybetweentheseoutburststhatshefoundthatexhaustingdrainuponhersympathieswhichwastheverypithandsubstanceoftheiralliance。Itwasthetacitadmissionofdisappointmentunderallthisglamourofsuccess——thehelplessnessoftheenchantertoatallenchanthimself——thatawokeinheranillogical，womanishdesiretoinsomewaycompensate，tomakeituptohim。
　　Shehadobserveddrasticallytoherselfthatitwashereighteenthyearheawokeinher——thosehardyearsshehadspentinturninggownsandplacatingtradesmen，andwhichshehadneverhadtimetolive。Afterall，shereflected，itwasbettertoallowone’sselfalittleyouth——todancealittleatthecarnivalandtolivethesethingswhentheyarenaturalandlovely，nottohavethemcomingbackononeanddemandingarrearswhentheyarehumiliatingandimpossible。Shewentovertonightallthecatalogueofherself-deprivations；recalledhow，inthelightofherfather’sexample，shehadevenrefusedtohumorherinnocenttasteforimprovisingatthepiano；how，whenshebegantoteach，afterhermother’sdeath，shehadstruckoutonelittleindulgenceafteranother，reducingherlifetoarelentlessroutine，unvaryingasclockwork。Itseemedtoherthateversinced’Esquerrefirstcameintothehouseshehadbeenhauntedbyanimploringlittlegirlishghostthatfollowedherabout，wringingitshandsandentreatingforanhouroflife。
　　Thestormhadheldoffunconscionablylong；theairwithinthelodgewasstifling，andwithoutthegardenwaited，breathless。Everythingseemedpervadedbyapoignantdistress；