Irenewassoft，surelyshewoulddothisforhim，subduehernaturalshrinking，soonerthangivehimpain！Thelessonsmustcontinue；foriftheydid，hewassecure。Andlightinghiscigaratlast，hebegantryingtoshapeouthowtoputittothemall，andexplainthisstrangeintimacy；howtoveilandwrapitawayfromthenakedtruth——thathecouldnotbeartobedeprivedofthesightofbeauty。Ah！Holly！Hollywasfondofher，Hollylikedherlessons。Shewouldsavehim——hislittlesweet！Andwiththathappythoughthebecameserene，andwonderedwhathehadbeenworryingaboutsofearfully。Hemustnotworry，itlefthimalwayscuriouslyweak，andasifbuthalfpresentinhisownbody。
　　Thateveningafterdinnerhehadareturnofthedizziness，thoughhedidnotfaint。Hewouldnotringthebell，becauseheknewitwouldmeanafuss，andmakehisgoinguponthemorrowmoreconspicuous。Whenonegrewold，thewholeworldwasinconspiracytolimitfreedom，andforwhatreason?——justtokeepthebreathinhimalittlelonger。Hedidnotwantitatsuchcost。OnlythedogBalthasarsawhislonelyrecoveryfromthatweakness；anxiouslywatchedhismastergotothesideboardanddrinksomebrandy，insteadofgivinghimabiscuit。WhenatlastoldJolyonfeltabletotacklethestairshewentuptobed。And，thoughstillshakynextmorning，thethoughtoftheeveningsustainedandstrengthenedhim。Itwasalwayssuchapleasuretogiveheragooddinner——hesuspectedherofundereatingwhenshewasalone；and，attheoperatowatchhereyesglowandbrighten，theunconscioussmilingofherlips。Shehadn’tmuchpleasure，andthiswasthelasttimehewouldbeabletogiveherthattreat。Butwhenhewaspackinghisbaghecaughthimselfwishingthathehadnotthefatigueofdressingfordinnerbeforehim，andtheexertion，too，oftellingheraboutJune’sreturn。
　　Theoperathateveningwas’Carmen，’andhechosethelastentr’actetobreakthenews，instinctivelyputtingitofftillthelatestmoment。
　　Shetookitquietly，queerly；infact，hedidnotknowhowshehadtakenitbeforethewaywardmusicliftedupagainandsilencebecamenecessary。Themaskwasdownoverherface，thatmaskbehindwhichsomuchwentonthathecouldnotsee。Shewantedtimetothinkitover，nodoubt！Hewouldnotpressher，forshewouldbecomingtogiveherlessonto-morrowafternoon，andheshouldseeherthenwhenshehadgotusedtotheidea。InthecabhetalkedonlyoftheCarmen；hehadseenbetterintheolddays，butthisonewasnotbadatall。Whenhetookherhandtosaygood-night，shebentquicklyforwardandkissedhisforehead。”Good-bye，dearUncleJolyon，youhavebeensosweettome。””To-morrowthen，”hesaid。”Good-night。Sleepwell。”Sheechoedsoftly：”Sleepwelll”andfromthecabwindow，alreadymovingaway，hesawherfacescrewedroundtowardshim，andherhandputoutinagesturewhichseemedtolinger。
　　Hesoughthisroomslowly。Theynevergavehimthesame，andhecouldnotgetusedtothese’spick-and-spandy’bedroomswithnewfurnitureandgrey-greencarpetssprinkledalloverwithpinkroses。HewaswakefulandthatwretchedHabanerakeptthrobbinginhishead。
　　HisFrenchhadneverbeenequaltoitswords，butitssenseheknew，ifithadanysense，agipsything——wildandunaccountable。
　　Well，therewasinlifesomethingwhichupsetallyourcareandplans——somethingwhichmademenandwomendancetoitspipes。Andhelaystaringfromdeep-sunkeyesintothedarknesswheretheunaccountableheldsway。Youthoughtyouhadholdoflife，butitslippedawaybehindyou，tookyoubythescruffoftheneck，forcedyouhereandforcedyouthere，andthen，likelyasnot，squeezedlifeoutofyou！Ittooktheverystarslikethat，heshouldn’twonder，rubbedtheirnosestogetherandflungthemapart；ithadneverdoneplayingitspranks。Fivemillionpeopleinthisgreatblunderbussofatown，andallofthematthemercyofthatLife-
　　Force，likealotoflittledriedpeashoppingaboutonaboardwhenyoustruckyourfistonit。Ah，well！Himselfwouldnothopmuchlonger——agoodlongsleepwoulddohimgood！
　　Howhotitwasuphere！——hownoisy！Hisforeheadburned；shehadkisseditjustwherehealwaysworried；justthere——asifshehadknowntheveryplaceandwantedtokissitallawayforhim。But，instead，herlipsleftapatchofgrievousuneasiness。Shehadneverspokeninquitethatvoice，hadneverbeforemadethatlingeringgestureorlookedbackathimasshedroveaway。
　　Hegotoutofbedandpulledthecurtainsaside；hisroomfaceddownovertheriver。Therewaslittleair，butthesightofthatbreadthofwaterflowingby，calm，eternal，soothedhim。’Thegreatthing，’hethought’isnottomakemyselfanuisance。I’llthinkofmylittlesweet，andgotosleep。’ButitwaslongbeforetheheatandthrobbingoftheLondonnightdiedoutintotheshortslumberofthesummermorning。AndoldJolyonhadbutfortywinks。
　　Whenhereachedhomenextdayhewentouttotheflowergarden，andwiththehelpofHolly，whowasverydelicatewithflowers，gatheredagreatbunchofcarnations。Theywere，hetoldher，for’theladyingrey’——anamestillbandiedbetweenthem；andheputtheminabowlinhisstudywherehemeanttotackleIrenethemomentshecame，onthesubjectofJuneandfuturelessons。Theirfragranceandcolourwouldhelp。Afterlunchhelaydown，forhefeltverytired，andthecarriagewouldnotbringherfromthestationtillfouro’clock。Butasthehourapproachedhegrewrestless，andsoughttheschoolroom，whichoverlookedthedrive。
　　Thesun-blindsweredown，andHollywastherewithMademoiselleBeauce，shelteredfromtheheatofastiflingJulyday，attendingtotheirsilkworms。OldJolyonhadanaturalantipathytothesemethodicalcreatures，whoseheadsandcolourremindedhimofelephants；whonibbledsuchquantitiesofholesinnicegreenleaves；andsmelled，ashethought，horrid。Hesatdownonachintz-coveredwindowseatwhencehecouldseethedrive，andgetwhatairtherewas；andthedogBalthasarwhoappreciatedchintzonhotdays，jumpedupbesidehim。Overthecottagepianoavioletdust-sheet，fadedalmosttogrey，wasspread，andonitthefirstlavender，whosescentfilledtheroom。Inspiteofthecoolnesshere，perhapsbecauseofthatcoolnessthebeatoflifevehementlyimpressedhisebbed-downsenses。Eachsunbeamwhichcamethroughthechinkshadannoyingbrilliance；thatdogsmelledverystrong；
　　thelavenderperfumewasoverpowering；thosesilkwormsheavinguptheirgrey-greenbacksseemedhorriblyalive；andHolly’sdarkheadbentoverthemhadawonderfullysilkysheen。Amarvellouscruellystrongthingwaslifewhenyouwereoldandweak；itseemedtomockyouwithitsmultitudeofformsanditsbeatingvitality。Hehadnever，tillthoselastfewweeks，hadthiscuriousfeelingofbeingwithonehalfofhimeagerlybornealonginthestreamoflife，andwiththeotherhalfleftonthebank，watchingthathelplessprogress。OnlywhenIrenewaswithhimdidhelosethisdoubleconsciousness。
　　Hollyturnedherhead，pointedwithherlittlebrownfisttothepiano——fortopointwithafingerwasnot’well-brrred’——andsaidslyly：”Lookatthe’ladyingrey，’Gran；isn’tsheprettyto-day?”
　　OldJolyon’sheartgaveaflutter，andforasecondtheroomwasclouded；thenitcleared，andhesaidwithatwinkle：”Who’sbeendressingherup?””Mam’zelle。””Hollee！Don’tbefoolish！”
　　ThatprimlittleFrenchwoman！Shehadn’tyetgotoverthemusiclessonsbeingtakenawayfromher。Thatwouldn’thelp。Hislittlesweetwastheonlyfriendtheyhad。Well，theywereherlessons。
　　Andheshouldn’tbudgeshouldn’tbudgeforanything。HestrokedthewarmwoolonBalthasar’shead，andheardHollysay：”Whenmother’shome，therewon’tbeanychanges，willthere?Shedoesn’tlikestrangers，youknow。”
　　Thechild’swordsseemedtobringthechillyatmosphereofoppositionaboutoldJolyon，anddiscloseallthemenacetohisnew-foundfreedom。Ah！Hewouldhavetoresignhimselftobeinganoldmanatthemercyofcareandlove，orfighttokeepthisnewandprizedcompanionship；andtofighttiredhimtodeath。Buthisthin，wornfacehardenedintoresolutiontillitappearedallJaw。
　　Thiswashishouse，andhisaffair；heshouldnotbudge！Helookedathiswatch，oldandthinlikehimself；hehadowneditfiftyyears。Pastfouralready！AndkissingthetopofHolly’sheadinpassing，hewentdowntothehall。Hewantedtogetholdofherbeforeshewentuptogiveherlesson。Atthefirstsoundofwheelshesteppedoutintotheporch，andsawatoncethatthevictoriawasempty。”Thetrain’sin，sir；butthelady’asn’tcome。”
　　OldJolyongavehimasharpupwardlook，hiseyesseemedtopushawaythatfatchap’scuriosity，anddefyhimtoseethebitterdisappointmenthewasfeeling。”Verywell，”hesaid，andturnedbackintothehouse。Hewenttohisstudyandsatdown，quiveringlikealeaf。Whatdidthismean?
　　Shemighthavelosthertrain，butheknewwellenoughshehadn’t。
　　’Good-bye，dearUncleJolyon。’Why’Good-bye’andnot’Good-
　　night’?Andthathandofherslingeringintheair。Andherkiss。
　　Whatdiditmean?Vehementalarmandirritationtookpossessionofhim。HegotupandbegantopacetheTurkeycarpet，betweenwindowandwall。Shewasgoingtogivehimup！Hefeltitforcertain——
　　andhedefenceless。Anoldmanwantingtolookonbeauty！Itwasridiculous！Ageclosedhismouth，paralysedhispowertofight。
　　Hehadnorighttowhatwaswarmandliving，norighttoanythingbutmemoriesandsorrow。Hecouldnotpleadwithher；evenanoldmanhashisdignity。Defenceless！Foranhour，losttobodilyfatigue，hepacedupanddown，pastthebowlofcarnationshehadplucked，whichmockedhimwithitsscent。Ofallthingshardtobear，theprostrationofwill-powerishardest，foronewhohasalwayshadhisway。Naturehadgothiminitsnet，andlikeanunhappyfishheturnedandswamatthemeshes，hereandthere，foundnohole，nobreakingpoint。Theybroughthimteaatfiveo’clock，andaletter。Foramomenthopebeatupinhim。Hecuttheenvelopewiththebutterknife，andread：”DEARESTUNCLEJOLYON，——Ican’tbeartowriteanythingthatmaydisappointyou，butIwastoocowardlytotellyoulastnight。I
　　feelIcan’tcomedownandgiveHollyanymorelessons，nowthatJuneiscomingback。Somethingsgotoodeeptobeforgotten。IthasbeensuchajoytoseeyouandHolly。PerhapsIshallstillseeyousometimeswhenyoucomeup，thoughI’msureit’snotgoodforyou；Icanseeyouaretiringyourselftoomuch。Ibelieveyououghttorestquitequietlyallthishotweather，andnowyouhaveyoursonandJunecomingbackyouwillbesohappy。Thankyouamilliontimesforallyoursweetnesstome。”LovinglyyourIRENE。”
　　So，thereitwas！Notgoodforhimtohavepleasureandwhathechieflycaredabout；totryandputofffeelingtheinevitableendofallthings，theapproachofdeathwithitsstealthy，rustlingfootsteps。Notgoodforhim！Notevenshecouldseehowshewashisnewleaseofinterestinlife，theincarnationofallthebeautyhefeltslippingfromhim。
　　Histeagrewcold，hiscigarremainedunlit；andupanddownhepaced，tornbetweenhisdignityandhisholdonlife。Intolerabletobesqueezedoutslowly，withoutasayofyourown，toliveonwhenyourwillwasinthehandsofothersbentonweighingyoutothegroundwithcareandlove。Intolerable！Hewouldseewhattellingherthetruthwoulddo——thetruththathewantedthesightofhermorethanjustalingeringon。Hesatdownathisoldbureauandtookapen。Buthecouldnotwrite。Therewassome-
　　thingrevoltinginhavingtopleadlikethis；pleadthatsheshouldwarmhiseyeswithherbeauty。Itwastantamounttoconfessingdotage。Hesimplycouldnot。Andinstead，hewrote：”Ihadhopedthatthememoryofoldsoreswouldnotbeallowedtostandinthewayofwhatisapleasureandaprofittomeandmylittlegrand-daughter。Butoldmenlearntoforegotheirwhims；
　　theyareobligedto，eventhewhimtolivemustbeforegonesoonerorlater；andperhapsthesoonerthebetter。”Mylovetoyou，”JOLYONFORSYTE。”
　　’Bitter，’hethought，’butIcan’thelpit。I’mtired。’Hesealedanddroppeditintotheboxfortheeveningpost，andhearingitfalltothebottom，thought：’TheregoesallI’velookedforwardto！’
　　Thateveningafterdinnerwhichhescarcelytouched，afterhiscigarwhichhelefthalf-smokedforitmadehimfeelfaint，hewentveryslowlyupstairsandstoleintothenight-nursery。Hesatdownonthewindow-seat。Anight-lightwasburning，andhecouldjustseeHolly’sface，withonehandunderneaththecheek。AnearlycockchaferbuzzedintheJapanesepaperwithwhichtheyhadfilledthegrate，andoneofthehorsesinthestablestampedrestlessly。