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Updated: June 1, 2025
Anerton as he sat over his breakfast in the empty hotel restaurant, and that, looking up on the approach of the lady who seated herself at the table near the window, he had said to himself, "That might be she." Ever since his Harvard days he was still young enough to think of them as immensely remote Danyers had dreamed of Mrs.
In the lady's dress and movements in the very turn of her wrist as she poured out her coffee Danyers thought he detected the same fastidiousness, the same air of tacitly excluding the obvious and unexceptional. Here was a woman who had been much bored and keenly interested.
Danyers felt that in talking of these things she was no mere echo of Rendle's thought. If her identity had appeared to be merged in his it was because they thought alike, not because he had thought for her. Posterity is apt to regard the women whom poets have sung as chance pegs on which they hung their garlands; but Mrs.
Memorall offered him letters to everybody, from the Archbishop of Canterbury to Louise Michel. She did not include Mrs. Anerton, however, and Danyers knew, from a previous conversation, that Silvia objected to people who "brought letters."
Anerton?" cried Danyers, disturbed by this careless familiarity with the habits of his divinity. "'And did I once see Shelley plain? Mercy, yes! She and I were at school together she's an American, you know. We were at a pension near Tours for nearly a year; then she went back to New York, and I didn't see her again till after her marriage.
Anerton, the Silvia of Vincent Rendle's immortal sonnet-cycle, the Mrs. A. of the Life and Letters. Her name was enshrined in some of the noblest English verse of the nineteenth century and of all past or future centuries, as Danyers, from the stand-point of a maturer judgment, still believed.
The waiter brought her a Secolo, and as she bent above it Danyers noticed that the hair rolled back from her forehead was turning gray; but her figure was straight and slender, and she had the invaluable gift of a girlish back.
Danyers was privileged to read the few lines in which, in terms that suggested the habit of "acknowledging" similar tributes, she spoke of the author's "feeling and insight," and was "so glad of the opportunity," etc. He went away disappointed, without clearly knowing what else he had expected. The following spring, when he went abroad, Mrs.
"The Anertons never separated, did they?" "Separated? Bless you, no. He never would have left Rendle! And besides, he was very fond of his wife." "And she?" "Oh, she saw he was the kind of man who was fated to make himself ridiculous, and she never interfered with his natural tendencies." From Mrs. Memorall, Danyers further learned that Mrs.
After that, when they climbed the alleys of the hanging park, resting in one of the little ruined temples, or watching, through a ripple of foliage, the remote blue flash of the lake, they did not always talk of Rendle or of literature. She encouraged Danyers to speak of himself; to confide his ambitions to her; she asked him the questions which are the wise woman's substitute for advice.
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