Then I
would go away, and carry her image with me into every art-
gallery, over every glacier, and under every lovely sky that I
should enjoy abroad, hoping all the time that, taking my place,
as it were, in my home, and making my possessions, in a measure,
her own, she would indirectly become so well acquainted with me
that when I returned I might speak to her without shocking her.
To obtain this final interview there was but one way. I had
left my house on Saturday, the Vincents would come on the
following Monday, and I would sail on Wednesday. I would go on
Tuesday to inquire if they found everything to their
satisfaction. This would be a very proper attention from a
landlord about to leave the country.
When I reached Boynton I determined to walk to my house,
for I did not wish to encumber myself with a hired vehicle. I
might be asked to stay to luncheon. A very strange feeling came
over me as I entered my grounds. They were not mine. For the
time being they belonged to somebody else. I was merely a
visitor or a trespasser if the Vincents thought proper so to
consider me. If they did not like people to walk on the grass I
had no right to do it.
None of my servants had been left on the place, and the maid
who came to the door informed me that Mr. Vincent had gone to New
York that morning, and that Mrs. Vincent and her daughter were
out driving. I ventured to ask if she thought they would soon
return, and she answered that she did not think they would, as
they had gone to Rock Lake, which, from the way they talked about
it, must be a long way off.
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