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of the lamp； Janet had her turn at reading。 From the first she had been
quick to note Mrs。 Maturin's inflections； and the relics of a high…school
manner were rapidly eliminated。 The essence of latter…day realism and
pragmatism； its courageous determination to tear away a veil of which she
had always been dimly aware； to look the facts of human nature in the
face； refreshed her： an increasing portion of it she understood； and she
was constantly under the spell of the excitement that partially grasps；
that hovers on the verge of inspiring discoveries。 This excitement；
whenever Insall chanced to be present； was intensified； as she sat a
silent but often quivering listener to his amusing and pungent comments
on these new ideas。 His method of discussion never failed to illuminate
and delight her； and often； when she sat at her typewriter the next day；
she would recall one of his quaint remarks that suddenly threw a bright
light on some matter hitherto obscure。。。。 Occasionally a novel or a play
was the subject of their talk； and then they took a delight in drawing
her out； in appealing to a spontaneous judgment unhampered by
pedagogically implanted preconceptions。 Janet would grow hot from
shyness。
〃Say what you think； my dear；〃 Mrs。 Maturin would urge her。 〃And
remember that your own opinion is worth more than Shakespeare's or
Napoleon's！〃
Insall would escort her home to Mrs。 Case's boarding house。。。。
One afternoon early in June Janet sat in her little room working at her
letters when Brooks Insall came in。 〃I don't mean to intrude in business
hours； but I wanted to ask if you would do a little copying for me；〃 he
said； and he laid on her desk a parcel bound with characteristic
neatness。
〃Something you've written？〃 she exclaimed； blushing with pleasure and
surprise。 He was actually confiding to her one of his manuscripts！
〃Wellyes；〃 he replied comically； eyeing her。
〃I'll be very careful with it。 I'll do it right away。〃
〃There's no particular hurry；〃 he assured her。 〃The editor's waited six
months for itanother month or so won't matter。〃
〃Another month or so！〃 she ejaculated；but he was gone。 Of course she
couldn't have expected him to remain and talk about it； but this
unexpected exhibition of shyness concerning his workso admired by the
world's choicer spiritsthrilled yet amused her； and made her glow with
a new understanding。 With eager fingers she undid the string and sat
staring at the regular script without taking in； at first； the meaning of
a single sentence。 It was a comparatively short sketch entitled 〃The
Exile；〃 in which shining； winged truths and elusive beauties flitted
continually against a darkbackground of Puritan oppression； the story of
one Basil Grelott； a dreamer of Milton's day； Oxford nurtured； who；
casting off the shackles of dogma and manmade decrees； sailed with his
books to the New England wilderness across the sea。 There he lived；
among the savages； in peace and freedom until the arrival of Winthrop and
his devotees； to encounter persecution from those who themselves had fled
from it。 The Lord's Brethren； he averred； were worse than the Lord's
BishopsBlackstone's phrase。 Janet； of course； had never heard of
Blackstone； some of whose experiences Insall had evidently used。 And the
Puritans dealt with Grelott even as they would have served the author of
〃Paradise Lost〃 himself； especially if he had voiced among them the
opinions set forth in his pamphlet on divorce。 A portrait of a stern
divine with his infallible Book gave Janet a vivid conception of the
character of her ancestors； and early Boston； with yellow candlelight
gleaming from the lantern…like windows of the wooden； Elizabethan houses；
was unforgettably etched。 There was an inquisition in a freezing barn of
a church； and Basil Grelott banished to perish amid the forest。 in his
renewed quest for freedom。。。。 After reading the manuscript； Janet sat
typewriting into the night； taking it home with her and placing it
besides her bed； lest it be lost to posterity。 By five the next evening
she had finished the copy。
A gentle rain had fallen during the day； but had ceased as she made her
way toward Insall's house。 The place was familiar now： she had been
there to supper with Mrs。 Maturin； a supper cooked and served by Martha
Vesey； an elderly； efficient and appallingly neat widow； whom Insall had
discovered somewhere in his travels and installed as his housekeeper。
Janet paused with her hand on the gate latch to gaze around her； at the
picket fence on which he had been working when she had walked hither the
year before。 It was primly painted now； its posts crowned with the
carved pineapples； behind the fence old…fashioned flowers were in bloom；
lupins and false indigo； and the retaining wall of blue…grey slaty stone；
which he had laid that spring； was finished。 A wind stirred the maple；
releasing a shower of heavy drops； and she opened the gate and went up
the path and knocked at the door。 There was no responseeven Martha
must be absent； in the village！ Janet was disappointed； she had looked
forward to seeing him； to telling him how great had been her pleasure in
the story he had written； at the same time doubting her courage to do so。
She had never been able to speak to him about his work and what did her
opinion matter to him？ As she turned away the stillness was broken by a
humming sound gradually rising to a crescendo； so she ventured slowly
around the house and into the orchard of gnarled apple trees on the slope
until she came insight of a little white building beside the brook。 The
weathervane perched on the gable； and veering in the wet breeze； seemed
like a live fish swimming in its own element； and through the open window
she saw Insall bending over a lathe； from which the chips were flying。
She hesitated。 Then he looked up； and seeing her； reached above his head
to pull the lever that shut off the power。
〃Come in；〃 he called out； and met her at the doorway。 He was dressed in
a white duck shirt； open at the neck； and a pair of faded corduroy
trousers。 〃I wasn't looking for this honour；〃 he told her； with a
gesture of self…deprecation； 〃or I'd have put on a dinner coat。〃
And； despite her eagerness and excitement； she laughed。
〃I didn't dare to leave this in the house；〃 she explained。 Mrs。 Vesey
wasn't home。 And I thought you might be here。〃
〃You haven't made the copy already！〃
〃Oh； I loved doing it！〃 she replied； and paused； flushing。 She might
have known that it would be simply impossible to talk to him about it！
So she laid it down on the workbench； and； overcome by a sudden shyness；
retreated toward the door。
〃You're not going！〃 he exclaimed。
〃I mustand you're busy。〃
〃Not at all；〃 he declared； 〃not at all； I was just killing time until
supper。 Sit down！〃 And he waved her to a magisterial…looking chair of
Jacobean design； with turned legs； sandpapered and immaculate； that stood
in the middle of the shop。
〃Oh； not in that！〃 Janet protested。 〃And besides； I'd spoil itI'm sure
my skirt is wet。〃
But he insisted； thrusting it under her。 〃You've come along just in
time； I wanted a woman to test itmen are no judges of chairs。 There's
a vacuum behind the small of your back； isn't there？ Augusta will have
to put a cushion in it。〃
〃Did you make it for Mrs。 Maturin？ She will be Pleased！〃 exclaimed
Janet； as she sat down。 〃I don't think it's uncomfortable。〃
〃I copied it from an old one in the Boston Art Museum。 Augusta saw it
there； and said she wouldn't be happy until she had one like it。 But
don't tell her。〃
〃Not for anything！〃 Janet got to her feet again。 〃I really must be
going。〃
〃Going where？〃
〃I told Mrs。 Maturin I'd read that new book to her。 I couldn't go
yesterdayI didn't want to go；〃 she added； fearing he might think his
work had kept her。
〃Well； I'll walk over with you。 She asked me to make a little design for
a fountain； you know； and I'll have to get some measurements。〃
As they emerged from the shop and climbed the slope Janet tried to fight
off the sadness that began to invade her。 Soon she would have to be
leaving all this！ Her glance lingered wistfully on the old farmhouse
with its great centre chimney from which the smoke was curling； with its
diamond…paned casements Insall had put into the tiny frames。
〃What queer windows！〃 she said。 〃But they seem to go with the house；
beautifully。〃
〃You think so？〃 His tone surprised her； it had a touch more of
earnestness than she had ever before detected。 〃They belong to that type
of house the old settlers brought the leaded glass with them。 Some
people think they're cold； but I've arranged to make them fairly tight。
You see； I've tried to restore it as it must have been when it was
built。〃
〃And these？〃 she asked； pointing to the millstones of different diameters
that made the steps leading down to the garden。
〃Oh； that's an old custom； but they are nice；〃 he agreed。 〃I'll just put
this precious manuscript inside and get my foot rule；〃 he added； opening
the door； and she stood awaiting him on the threshold； confronted by the
steep little staircase that disapp