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to come. Such a quest would serve that end.

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5
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      THE THREE OF US who remained sat in silence for a moment. When His Lordship rose, we all rose with him. He seemed more than usually thoughtful as he led us to the staircase. A servant had appeared to lead us and light the way, while others had materialized behind us and were already cleaning up the brandy glasses.
    “Turner, you know, is a brilliant man. He hits his mark more often than he misses it. It is time for bed, gentlemen. It is time for bed. Good night.” With those words Egremont shot forward and disappeared up the stairs.
    Jones and I followed at a more moderate pace and said our good nights at the landing. I left the candle burning by the bedside as I settled myself down in the enormous bed. Lady Mary looked down out of the darkness. I wondered who else had slept in this bed under her baleful gaze. Some Tudor knight, I thought, might have died where I was lying and the panels on the wall may have echoed the sound of a baby’s firstcry when Elizabeth was queen and Shakespeare’s new work was the talk of London. Thinking of all those houseguests in tights and ruffs who must have known each other on this bed, I fancied that if it could speak we would have a history of noble life, death, and fornication to which I would be some insignificant footnote.
    These cogitations led me back in due course (after a pleasant detour around your thighs and bottom) to Turner’s remark about the truth that lies between a woman’s legs. I have, as you know, only a theoretical knowledge of that location, but, thinking of you and what hangs between
your
legs, I half understand what Turner meant. When we are in each other’s arms, David, I am, at least, aware of all that matters.
    I woke just before dawn and went to the window, which overlooks the park. Earth, trees, grass, and water had been molded by Capability Brown as if all God’s materials were putty in his hands. The result was Nature made more perfect than Nature itself. In the half light I could see the pond, silver gray against the darker gray of the grass. I could make out some ducks or geese. There were deer bending down at the water’s edge. The hills beyond were black against the lightening sky, while the distant patchwork of cultivated fields was still invisible. As I stood there in my dressing gown, I could see the world begin to take on the colors of day, gray giving way to various shades of somber green. The sky behind the hills glowed with the faintest traces of rose as the fiery disk of the sun began to appear.
    The sound of an opening door attracted my attention and I looked down. A figure dressed in black stepped quickly acrossthe terrace. Turner, for it was he, has a queer stiff-legged trot, but he made his way with remarkable speed across the field and up the hill on my right. He held his hat onto his head with one hand while the other clutched a large portfolio which contained, I assumed, his drawing materials. When he reached the top he sat down on the bench and began to work. As I watched, the sun crested the hill and its image appeared in the glassy water. My words cannot do justice to the scene, and I was curious what Turner’s chalk and pen would make of it.
    I got dressed as rapidly as I could. It promised to be a beautiful morning and I wished to take up my lord’s offer to accompany him as he went out for deer. There had been conversation the night before of the need to cull the herd. His Lordship had said it was “not the usual way of things” and that it might interest me. Before tendering the invitation he had asked me a number of sharp questions. I had told him that I could not shoot and had no desire to do so, but that I could ride tolerably well. My father, though a poor clergyman, had been, through the kindness of his friends, a keen hunter and had taught me to ride. That was enough for Egremont, who said, “Come along then. It will be good for a young puppy like you to