Chapter 1 It began in a Woman’s Club in London on a February afternoon—an uncomfortable club, and a miserable Mrs. Wilkins, who had come down from Hampstead to shop and had lunched at her club, took up The Times from the table in the smoking-room, and running her listless eye down the Agony Column saw this: To Those Who Appreciate Wistaria and Sunshine. Small mediaeval Italian Castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be Let furnished for the month of April. Necessary servants remain. Z, Box 1000, The Times. That was its conception; yet, as in the case ...Read More

Chapter 2 Of course Mrs. Arbuthnot was not miserable—how could she be, she asked herself, when God was taking of her?—but she let that pass for the moment unrepudiated, because of her conviction that here was another fellow-creature in urgent need of her help; and not just boots and blankets and better sanitary arrangements this time, but the more delicate help of comprehension, of finding the exact right words. The exact right words, she presently discovered, after trying various ones about living for others, and prayer, and the peace to be found in placing oneself unreservedly in God’s hands—to ...Read More

Chapter 3 The owner of the mediaeval castle was an Englishman, a Mr. Briggs, who was in London at moment and wrote that it had beds enough for eight people, exclusive of servants, three sitting-rooms, battlements, dungeons, and electric light. The rent was £60 for the month, the servants’ wages were extra, and he wanted references—he wanted assurances that the second half of his rent would be paid, the first half being paid in advance, and he wanted assurances of respectability from a solicitor, or a doctor, or a clergyman. He was very polite in his letter, explaining that ...Read More

Chapter 4 It had been arranged that Mrs. Arbuthnot and Mrs. Wilkins, traveling together, should arrive at San Salvatore the evening of March 31st—the owner, who told them how to get there, appreciated their disinclination to begin their time in it on April 1st—and Lady Caroline and Mrs. Fisher, as yet unacquainted and therefore under no obligations to bore each other on the journey, for only towards the end would they find out by a process of sifting who they were, were to arrive on the morning of April 2nd. In this way everything would be got nicely ready ...Read More

Chapter 5 It was cloudy in Italy, which surprised them. They had expected brilliant sunshine. But never mind: it Italy, and the very clouds looked fat. Neither of them had ever been there before. Both gazed out of the windows with rapt faces. The hours flew as long as it was daylight, and after that there was the excitement of getting nearer, getting quite near, getting there. At Genoa it had begun to rain— Genoa! Imagine actually being at Genoa, seeing its name written up in the station just like any other name—at Nervi it was pouring, and when ...Read More

Chapter 6 When Mrs. Wilkins woke next morning she lay in bed a few minutes before getting up and the shutters. What would she see out of her window? A shining world, or a world of rain? But it would be beautiful; whatever it was would be beautiful. She was in a little bedroom with bare white walls and a stone floor and sparse old furniture. The beds—there were two—were made of iron, enameled black and painted with bunches of gay flowers. She lay putting off the great moment of going to the window as one puts off opening ...Read More

Chapter 7 Their eyes followed her admiringly. They had no idea they had been snubbed. It was a disappointment, course, to find she had forestalled them and that they were not to have the happiness of preparing for her, of watching her face when she arrived and first saw everything, but there was till Mrs. Fisher. They would concentrate on Mrs. Fisher, and would watch her face instead; only, like everybody else, they would have preferred to watch Lady Caroline’s. Perhaps, then, as Lady Caroline had talked of breakfast, they had better begin by going and having it, for ...Read More

Chapter 8 Presently, when Mrs. Wilkins and Mrs. Arbuthnot, unhampered by any duties, wandered out and down the worn steps and under the pergola into the lower garden, Mrs. Wilkins said to Mrs. Arbuthnot, who seemed pensive, “Don’t you see that if somebody else does the ordering it frees us?” Mrs. Arbuthnot said she did see, but nevertheless she thought it rather silly to have everything taken out of their hands. “I love things to be taken out of my hands,” said Mrs. Wilkins. “But we found San Salvatore,” said Mrs. Arbuthnot, “and it is rather silly that Mrs. ...Read More

Chapter 9 That one of the two sitting-rooms which Mrs. Fisher had taken for her own was a room charm and character. She surveyed it with satisfaction on going into it after breakfast, and was glad it was hers. It had a tiled floor, and walls the colour of pale honey, and inlaid furniture the colour of amber, and mellow books, many in ivory or lemon-coloured covers. There was a big window overlooking the sea towards Genoa, and a glass door through which she could proceed out on to the battlements and walk along past the quaint and attractive ...Read More

Chapter 10 There was no way of getting into or out of the top garden at San Salvatore except the two glass doors, unfortunately side by side, of the dining-room and the hall. A person in the garden who wished to escape unseen could not, for the person to be escaped from could be met on the way. It was a small, oblong garden, and concealment was impossible. What trees there were—the Judas tree, the tamarisk, the umbrella-pine—grew close to the low parapets. Rose bushes gave no real cover; one step to right or left of them, and the ...Read More

Chapter 11 The sweet smells that were everywhere in San Salvatore were alone enough to produce concord. They came the sitting-room from the flowers on the battlements, and met the ones from the flowers inside the room, and almost, thought Mrs. Wilkins, could be seen greeting each other with a holy kiss. Who could be angry in the middle of such gentlenesses? Who could be acquisitive, selfish, in the old rasped London way, in the presence of this bounteous beauty? Yet Mrs. Fisher seemed to be all three of these things. There was so much beauty, so much more ...Read More

Chapter 12 At the evening meal, which was the first time the whole four sat round the dining-room table Scrap appeared. She appeared quite punctually, and in one of those wrappers or tea-gowns which are sometimes described as ravishing. This one really was ravishing. It certainly ravished Mrs. Wilkins, who could not take her eyes off the enchanting figure opposite. It was a shell-pink garment, and clung to the adorable Scrap as though it, too, loved her. “What a beautiful dress!” exclaimed Mrs. Wilkins eagerly. “What—this old rag?” said Scrap, glancing down at it as if to see which ...Read More

Chapter 13 The uneventful days—only outwardly uneventful—slipped by in floods of sunshine, and the servants, watching the four ladies, to the conclusion there was very little life in them. To the servants San Salvatore seemed asleep. No one came to tea, nor did the ladies go anywhere to tea. Other tenants in other springs had been far more active. There had been stir and enterprise; the boat had been used; excursions had been made; Beppo’s fly was ordered; people from Mezzago came over and spent the day; the house rang with voices; even sometimes champagne had been drunk. Life ...Read More

Chapter 14 That first week the wistaria began to fade, and the flowers of the Judas-tree and peach-trees fell and carpeted the ground with rose-colour. Then all the freesias disappeared, and the irises grew scarce. And then, while these were clearing themselves away, the double banksia roses came out, and the big summer roses suddenly flaunted gorgeously on the walls and trellises. Fortune’s Yellow was one of them; a very beautiful rose. Presently the tamarisk and the daphnes were at their best, and the lilies at their tallest. By the end of the week the fig-trees were giving shade, ...Read More

Chapter 15 The strange effect of this incident was that when they met that evening at dinner both Mrs. and Lady Caroline had a singular feeling of secret understanding with Mr. Wilkins. He could not be to them as other men. He could not be to them as he would have been if they had met him in his clothes. There was a sense of broken ice; they felt at once intimate and indulgent; almost they felt to him as nurses do—as those feel who have assisted either patients or young children at their baths. They were acquainted with ...Read More

Chapter 16 And so the second week began, and all was harmony. The arrival of Mr. Wilkins, instead of, three of the party had feared and the fourth had only been protected from fearing by her burning faith in the effect on him of San Salvatore, disturbing such harmony as there was, increased it. He fitted in. He was determined to please, and he did please. He was most amiable to his wife—not only in public, which she was used to, but in private, when he certainly wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t wanted to. He did want to. ...Read More

Chapter 17 On the first day of the third week Rose wrote to Frederick. In case she should again and not post the letter, she gave it to Domenico to post; for if she did not write now there would be no time left at all. Half the month at San Salvatore was over. Even if Frederick started directly he got the letter, which of course he wouldn’t be able to do, what with packing and passport, besides not being in a hurry to come, he couldn’t arrive for five days. Having done it, Rose wished she hadn’t. He ...Read More

Chapter 18 They had a very pleasant walk, with a great deal of sitting down in warm, thyme-fragrant corners, if anything could have helped Rose to recover from the bitter disappointment of the morning it would have been the company and conversation of Mr. Briggs. He did help her to recover, and the same process took place as that which Lotty had undergone with her husband, and the more Mr. Briggs thought Rose charming the more charming she became. Briggs was a man incapable of concealments, who never lost time if he could help it. They had not got ...Read More

Chapter 19 And then when she spoke . . . what chance was there for poor Briggs? He was All Scrap said was, “How do you do,” on Mr. Wilkins presenting him, but it was enough; it undid Briggs. From a cheerful, chatty, happy young man, overflowing with life and friendliness, he became silent, solemn, and with little beads on his temples. Also he became clumsy, dropping the teaspoon as he handed her her cup, mismanaging the macaroons, so that one rolled on the ground. His eyes could not keep off the enchanting face for a moment; and when ...Read More

Chapter 20 Scrap wanted to know so much about her mother that Arundel had presently to invent. He would about anything she wished if only he might be with her for a while and see her and hear her, but he knew very little of the Droitwiches and their friends really—beyond meeting them at those bigger functions where literature is also represented, and amusing them at luncheons and dinners, he knew very little of them really. To them he had always remained Mr. Arundel; no one called him Ferdinand; and he only knew the gossip also available to the ...Read More

Chapter 21 Now Frederick was not the man to hurt anything if he could help it; besides, he was bewildered. Not only was his wife here —here, of all places in the world—but she was clinging to him as she had not clung for years, and murmuring love, and welcoming him. If she welcomed him she must have been expecting him. Strange as this was, it was the only thing in the situation which was evident—that, and the softness of her cheek against his, and the long-forgotten sweet smell of her. Frederick was bewildered. But not being the man ...Read More

Chapter 22 That evening was the evening of the full moon. The garden was an enchanted place where all flowers seemed white. The lilies, the daphnes, the orange-blossom, the white stocks, the white pinks, the white roses—you could see these as plainly as in the day-time; but the coloured flowers existed only as fragrance. The three younger women sat on the low wall at the end of the top garden after dinner, Rose a little apart from the others, and watched the enormous moon moving slowly over the place where Shelley had lived his last months just on a ...Read More