The shadow of the Wolf

by R. Austin Freeman

But there was another source of trouble. His confidence in Margaret’s feelings towards him had been somewhat shaken of late. It had seemed to him there had been a change in her bearing towards him; a slight change, subtle and indefinable, but a change. She seemed as friendly, as cordial as ever; she welcomed his visits and appeared always glad to see him; and yet there was a something guarded—so he felt—as if she were consciously restraining any further increase of intimacy.

The thought of it troubled him profoundly. Of course it might be nothing more than a little extra carefulness, due to her equivocal position. She had need to keep clear of anything in the slightest degree compromising; that he realized clearly. But still the feeling lurked in his mind that she had changed, at least in manner; and sometimes he was aware of a horrible suspicion that he might have been overconfident. More than once he had been on the point of saying something indiscreet; and as time went on he felt ever growing a yearning to have his doubts set at rest.

On this present occasion he was taking tea with Margaret by invitation with the ostensible object of showing her a set of etchings of some of the picturesque corners of Maidstone. He always enjoyed showing her his works because he could see that she enjoyed looking at them; and these etchings of her native town would, he knew, have a double appeal.

“What a lovely old place it is!” she exclaimed as she sipped her tea with her eyes fixed on the etchings that Varney had placed before her on a music stand. “Why is it, Mr. Varney, that an etching or a drawing of any kind is so much more like the place than a photograph? It can’t be a question of accuracy, for the photograph is at least as accurate as a drawing and contains a great deal more detail.”

“Yes,” agreed Varney, “and that is probably the explanation. An artist puts down what he sees and what any one else would see and recognize. A photograph puts down what is there, regardless of how the scene would look to a spectator. Consequently it is full of irrelevant detail which gets in the way of the real effect as the eye would see it; and it may show appearances that the eye never sees at all, as in the case of Muybridge’s instantaneous photographs of galloping horses. A photograph of a Dutch clock might catch the pendulum in the middle of its swing, and then the clock would appear to have stopped. But an artist would always draw it at the end of its swing where it pauses for an instant; and that is where the eye sees it when the clock is going.”

“Yes, of course,” said Margaret; “and now I understand why your etchings of the old streets and lanes show just the streets and lanes that I remember, whereas the photographs that I have all look more or less strange and unfamiliar. I suppose they are full of details that I never noticed; but your etchings pick out and emphasize the things that I used to look at with pleasure and which live in my memory. It is a long time since I have been to Maidstone. I should like to see it again; indeed I am not sure that, if I were free to choose, I shouldn’t like to live there again. It is a dear old town.”

“Yes; isn’t it? But you say ‘if you were free to choose.’ Aren’t you free to choose where you will live?”

“In a sense, I am, I suppose,” she replied; “but I don’t feel that I can make any definite arrangements for the future until—well, until I know what my own future is to be.”

“But surely you know that now. You have got that letter of Dan’s. That practically releases you. The rest is only a matter of time and legal formalities. If Jack Rodney had only got Penfield or some other solicitor to get the case started as soon as you had that letter, you would have had your decree by now and have been your own mistress. At least, that is my feeling on the subject. Of course I am not a lawyer and I may be wrong.”

“I don’t think you are,” said Margaret. “I have thought the same all along, and I fancy Mr. Rodney is beginning to regret that he did not follow Dr. Thorndyke’s advice and rely on the letter only. But he felt that he could hardly go against Mr. Barnby, who has had so much experience in this kind of practice. And Mr. Barnby was very positive that the letter was not enough.”