It may be that there is a companionship in a mirror, especially to a
woman; that the reflection of oneself is an emboldening presence, a
personality which is better than the actuality of an unvalued stranger. Certainly, when Stephen closed the door and stood in the wainscoted
passage, which was only dimly lit by the high window at either end, her
courage seemed at once to ooze away. Probably for the first time in her life, as she left the shade of the
long passage and came out on the staircase flooded with the light of the
noonday sun, Stephen felt that she was a girl--'girl' standing as some
sort of synonym for weakness, pretended or actual. Fear, in whatever
form or degree it may come, is a vital quality and must move. It cannot
stand at a fixed point; if it be not sent backward it must progress. Stephen felt this, and, though her whole nature was repugnant to the
task, forced herself to the effort of repression. It would, she felt,
have been to her a delicious pleasure to have abandoned all effort; to
have sunk in the lassitude of self-surrender. The woman in her was working; her sex had found her out! She turned and looked around her, as though conscious of being watched. Then, seeing that she was alone, she went her way with settled purpose;
with flashing eyes and glowing cheeks--and a beating heart. A heart all
woman's since it throbbed the most with apprehension when the enemy, Man,
was the objective of her most resolute attack. She knew that she must
keep moving; that she must not stop or pause; or her whole resolution
must collapse. And so she hurried on, fearful lest a chance meeting with
any one might imperil her purpose. On she went through the faint moss-green paths; through meadows rich with
flowering grasses and the many reds of the summer wild-flowers. And so
up through the path cut in the natural dipping of the rock that rose over
Caester Hill and formed a strong base for the clump of great trees that
made a landmark for many a mile around. During the first part of her
journey between the house and the hilltop, she tried to hold her purpose
at arm's length; it would be sufficient to face its terrors when the time
had come. In the meantime the matter was of such overwhelming importance
that nothing else could take its place; all she could do was to suspend
the active part of the thinking faculties and leave the mind only
receptive. But when she had passed through the thin belt of stunted oak and beech
which hedged in the last of the lush meadows, and caught sight of the
clump of trees on the hilltop, she unconsciously braced herself as a
young regiment loses its tremors when the sight of the enemy breaks upon
it. No longer her eyes fell earthward; they were raised, and raised
proudly. Stephen Norman was fixed in her intention. Like the woman of
old, her feet were on the ploughshares and she would not hesitate. As she drew near the appointed place her pace grew slower and slower; the
woman in her was unconsciously manifesting itself. She would not be
first in her tryst with a man. Unconsciousness, however, is not a
working quality which can be relied upon for staying power; the approach
to the trysting-place brought once more home to her the strange nature of
her enterprise. She had made up her mind to it; there was no use in
deceiving herself. What she had undertaken to do was much more
unconventional than being first at a meeting. It was foolish and weak to
delay. The last thought braced her up; and it was with a hurried gait,
which alone would have betrayed her to an intelligent observer, that she
entered the grove. CHAPTER XI--THE MEETING


Had Stephen been better acquainted with men and women, she would have
been more satisfied with herself for being the first at the tryst. The
conventional idea, in the minds of most women and of all men, is that a
woman should never be the first. But real women, those in whom the heart
beats strong, and whose blood can leap, know better. These are the
commanders of men. In them sex calls to sex, all unconsciously at first;
and men answer to their call, as they to men's. Two opposite feelings strove for dominance as Stephen found herself on
the hilltop, alone. One a feeling natural enough to any one, and
especially to a girl, of relief that a dreaded hour had been postponed;
the other of chagrin that she was the first. After a few moments, however, one of the two militant thoughts became
dominant: the feeling of chagrin. With a pang she thought if she had
been a man and summoned for such a purpose, how she would have hurried to
the trysting-place; how the flying of her feet would have vied with the
quick rapturous beating of her heart! With a little sigh and a blush,
she remembered that Leonard did not know the purpose of the meeting; that
he was a friend almost brought up with her since boy and girl times; that
he had often been summoned in similar terms and for the most trivial of
social purposes. For nearly half an hour Stephen sat on the rustic seat under the shadow
of the great oak, looking, half unconscious of its beauty and yet
influenced by it, over the wide landscape stretched at her feet. In spite of her disregard of conventions, she was no fool; the instinct
of wisdom was strong within her, so strong that in many ways it ruled her
conscious efforts. Had any one told her that her preparations for this
interview were made deliberately with some of the astuteness that
dominated the Devil when he took Jesus to the top of a high mountain and
showed him all the kingdoms of the earth at His feet, she would have, and
with truth, denied it with indignation. Nevertheless it was a fact that
she had, in all unconsciousness, chosen for the meeting a spot which
would evidence to a man, consciously or unconsciously, the desirability
for his own sake of acquiescence in her views and wishes. For all this
spreading landscape was her possession, which her husband would share. As
far as the eye could reach was within the estate which she had inherited
from her father and her uncle. The half-hour passed in waiting had in one way its advantages to the
girl: though she was still as high strung as ever, she acquired a larger
measure of control over herself. The nervous tension, however, was so
complete physically that all her faculties were acutely awake; very early
she became conscious of a distant footstep. To Stephen's straining ears the footsteps seemed wondrous slow, and more
wondrous regular; she felt instinctively that she would have liked to
have listened to a more hurried succession of less evenly-marked sounds. But notwithstanding these thoughts, and the qualms which came in their
turn, the sound of the coming feet brought great joy. For, after all,
they were coming; and coming just in time to prevent the sense of
disappointment at their delay gaining firm foothold. It was only when
the coming was assured that she felt how strong had been the undercurrent
of her apprehension lest they should not come at all.